Royal Flush
by Lansydyr
Summary: Nine years after Harry Potter disappears from the Wizarding World, Hermione thinks she found a clue to his location. She travels halfway around the world, but is unprepared for what she finds. Rated M for language
1. Chapter 1

**Royal Flush **

**Chapter 1**

Even though there were absolutely no similarities with her current situation, Hermione was surprisingly reminded of standing outside the Great Hall of Hogwarts her very first day almost seventeen years ago. She had never felt so completely out of her element as at that time, reciting spells she wasn't sure she believed in, waiting to be sorted, wondering how that was going to happen. Now, after almost eighteen years in the wizarding world, her current location was as much a sensory overload as her first view of actual ghosts. For the first time since she thought she saw his face on the TV screen, she wondered if she might be mistaken. It was almost impossible to believe that Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, and missing for the past nine years could be hiding out here!

_No, _she thought, _even though those green eyes could belong to anyone, I would recognize that scar anywhere. _And so, because of that unmistakable lightning bolt shaped scar, Hermione found herself wading through crowds of muggles in what she thought had to be the highest concentration of neon lights in the world. The problem was, now that she was in Las Vegas, she had absolutely no clue where to begin searching.

She knew that the strong magical energies emanating from Hogwarts interfered with muggle electricity. Conversely, she wondered, was there so much electricity in this city that magic could be similarly disrupted? She wondered at what point she had become so much more comfortable with magic that electricity seemed to be such an intimidating force. _Maybe it's the city, _she decided. _After all, I still use electricity in my flat in muggle London._

Still, the task ahead was daunting. In her opinion, there seemed to be more casinos on just this one street than there were rooms in Hogwarts. Not to mention the countless thousands of hotel rooms many of those casinos had. Plus, she didn't know which casinos, if not all of them, had the game she saw him playing. In fact, the obstacles in her path were starting to seem so overwhelming, she wondered again if it had been a bad idea coming here alone, with no plan.

Still, she just couldn't ignore that small spark of hope that had flared up when she caught that split-second glimpse on the telly, that first glance in nine years of her best friend. That spark of hope was all that was keeping her from screaming in frustration, that kept the tears threatening to fall behind her eyelids, that had her looking into the night sky, pleading silently for some help. Any help at all.

She could not have been luckier if she drank a gallon of _Felix Felicius_. It was at that exact moment that she was looking into the sky that her eye caught a flash of movement through the glare from the neon lights. She never would have noticed it if she hadn't been looking in exactly the right spot. Here! Here was the proof she had been looking for! The proof that she wasn't crazy, that she didn't waste a whole month of holiday, leaving her home and traveling halfway around the world on a wild goose chase.

The tears started spilling out of her eyes now, but they were tears of relief rather than frustration. She didn't give a damn about the tears as long as they didn't block her vision. Not that all the glare from all the neon lights in the whole city could distract her now. She was hardly aware that she had started running down the strip, bumping into people left and right, as she followed her target. She desperately wished she could get close enough to get its attention. Finally it slowed down and landed on the awning of one of the casino's parkways.

"Hedwig!"

_If an owl could look startled, _Hermione thought, _that's the face it would make._ Though Hedwig was definitely surprised to see Hermione, she seemed happy enough. With a loud hoot, the owl flew off the awning onto Hermione's waiting arm. It took all of her self-control, but she managed not to crush the beautiful white owl with a hug. She managed to get by with stroking her feathers.

"Hello, girl. It's been a long time since I've seen you." (Hoot) "Is Harry around? Is he doing ok?" (Hoot) "Can you take me to him?"

Though Hedwig looked nervous when Hermione mentioned Harry's name, whatever the owl was about do got interrupted by a voice from behind Hermione.

"Well, if that ain't the damnedest thing." The speaker was tall man with light brown hair and blue eyes wearing jeans and a t-shirt that said "chicks dig scrawny pale guys." He was definitely not scrawny, Hermione noticed, as he held out a piece of bacon that Hedwig accepted. He scratched the owl's head as he continued.

"You see, I've never known ol' Hedwig here to respond to anyone but her owner if they didn't have any food in their hand."

"You, you know her owner?" Even though he was obviously familiar with Harry's familiar, Hermione could hardly believe that she was lucky enough to find the answers she was looking for in less than an hour in this city.

"Know him?" The man started laughing. "That bastard cleaned me outta twenty grand just last night!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter Two**

Before his eleventh birthday, if anyone had asked Harry Potter to define himself with one word, he would have answered, "orphan." For the next five years, his answer would have been, "wizard." It wasn't until he was almost sixteen years old that he found out exactly what he was: a weapon. Fate and a psychotic wizard shaped the destiny of Harry's life since his birth. A prophecy made before he was born, that he found out about only after he was almost sixteen, consumed the last year of his childhood as well as the first year of his legal adulthood. Then, three months before his eighteenth birthday, Harry finally destroyed the most evil wizard in the world. He never could have imagined that his life would become more miserable after Voldemort's final death. But that's what happened.

Not content that he had managed to lift the cloak of terror that Voldemort had draped over the wizarding world for over 40 years, the press hounded Harry for every little detail of his life. He was the biggest celebrity you could imagine. Registering herself as an Animagus, Rita Skeeter, now free from blackmail, took an ugly revenge on Hermione and her friends. The stories she managed to print in the Daily Prophet were so malicious that the public once again began clamoring for the Trio's blood. Though they tried their best to counter the stories using The Quibbler, the wizarding public believed only what they wanted to believe.

It got so bad, that when Hermione got the invitation to attend the oldest wizarding university in Europe, she accepted the move to Rome straight off, glad to get away from the press. The Italian Auror program considered it quite a coup to have Ron Weasley apply, and accepted him straight away, NEWTS not needed. With two thirds of the saviors of the wizarding world in their country, the Italian Ministry of Magic bent over backwards to keep the paparazzi away. Both of his friends invited Harry to move with them, but he wanted them to work on their romance without a third wheel.

Besides, at that point, Harry was going through a bit of a depression. True, the prophecy often felt like the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head, but it was also a goal, something for him to focus on. It enabled him to ignore the many injustices of the magical world. After his victory, all those injustices got thrust in his face. Always uncomfortable with the press, with nothing more important to worry about, he couldn't deal with the cameras and reporters that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. So he hid at 12 Grimmauld Place. With all that he had done over the past year hunting down Voldemort's Horcruxes, attending his seventh year at Hogwarts and taking his NEWTS seemed to be the last of his priorities.

Unfortunately, Ginny was unable to understand why he didn't want to go back to Hogwarts. Especially if it meant they would be taking their seventh year together. If she had left him alone, he might have snapped out of it eventually. She was too much like her mum, though, and nagged Harry until he was ready to scream. On the night of his eighteenth birthday, he couldn't take it anymore. One of their regular arguments finally morphed into a full-scale massive breakup in front of all his friends and her family. 'Ugly' was probably the nicest word one could use to describe the fight. Harry ended up kicking everyone out of 12 Grimmauld Place, setting the house to refuse entrance to anyone, including Ron, Hermione or Mrs. Weasley.

It was two weeks before Dobby opened the door to a very worried Molly Weasley. Harry Potter was gone, Dobby proclaimed. The house looked exactly like it had two weeks ago. All the decorations from the party were still hanging up. The birthday presents were still in the same spot on the table, including the full set of seventh year textbooks from Ginny that ignited their latest and last argument. Dobby admitted that he had been expressly forbidden to touch a thing in this room, though Missus Wheezey could return the presents to Harry Potter's friends.

Dobby also relayed Harry's last message: Harry Potter was leaving. Dobby was to stay and care for the House of Black. It was to be available for any of Harry Potter's friends at any time for any reason. But Dobby was not allowed to use his house elf magic to locate Harry Potter, no matter what. A short letter that Dobby handed over to Molly said pretty much the same thing. Please do not try to find him. He needed some time alone. He would not be seen until he was ready to talk to his friends.

So, completely ignoring his request, the Weasleys initiated one of the largest manhunts in wizarding Britain. They involved Headmistress McGonagall and even reformed the Order of the Phoenix. The rest of the wizarding public weren't too concerned, not until an article by Rita Skeeter detailed the parallels between You-Know-Who's and The-Boy-Who-Lived's childhoods. Without saying it outright, Rita's article implied that Harry Potter's disappearance was as much a precursor to the rise of a new Dark Lord as when Tom Riddle disappeared from his job at Borgin & Burkes all those years ago. It was perhaps the worst possible outcome of Harry revealing Voldemort's history.

Like a flock of ill-tempered sheep, the magical public clamored for action, demanding The-Boy-Who-Lived be found, and held accountable for his actions. They wanted him to prove that he wasn't going to become a new Dark Lord. Hermione's frequent letters to the Daily Prophet attacking the absence of logic in the public's desire to force Harry to prove a negative only seemed to hurt her cause, as they said she was as much admitting that Harry Potter was going to be a new Dark Lord.

Bowing once more to political pressure, the Ministry of Magic involved the Aurors in a search that covered every inch of the British Isles. When it was obvious that he was no longer in England, they sent letters requesting the assistance of all the Foreign Ministries of Magic to help locate one of their missing citizens. Astonishingly, every single Ministry rebuffed the request, diplomatically suggesting that if Harry Potter wanted to be found, he would be.

Locational spells failed to reveal any information, even top secret spells developed by the Department of Mysteries. Owls refused to carry any letter addressed to Harry Potter. The stayed on their perch and would not move their wings until the letter was removed.

Whatever he did in those two weeks before he disappeared, Harry managed to cover his tracks perfectly. After three years of searching, interest waned. Harry Potter sightings, once as common as Sirius Black sightings after his escape, dropped to almost nothing.

Heart sore, his friends tried to move on with their lives, trusting, hoping that Harry would contact them when he was ready. With no Dark Lord on the horizon, Rita's fear-mongering stories started losing interest, and she had to find a new target. The-Boy-Who-Lived became The-Boy-Who-Disappeared.

Until Hermione, by pure accident, caught a glimpse of his face in the background of a TV documentary detailing the recent rise of popularity of the World Series of Poker. Telling no one what she had seen, Hermione refused to believe that face could belong to anyone else. Taking a month off her job at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she traveled to Las Vegas, capital of the poker world, determined to track down her oldest and best friend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter Three**

It had been a huge gamble, but it had paid off. Back when Potter disappeared, he had refused to believe that The-Boy-Who-Lived wasn't contacting his friends at all. After two years of no word, however, he was forced to conclude that Potter had truly cut all ties with his friends. He kept the surveillance functioning, though. If anyone was to find Potter, he was absolutely sure it would be the Weasel or the Mudblood.

And now, after nine years of extensive, expensive, exhaustive 24 hour surveillance, he had struck gold. His informants assured him that the mudblood hadn't received an owl or a fellytone (no, _telephone_ he corrected himself) call, but Hermione Granger, who last took a day off almost 6 years ago when she had a bad case of witches flu, did not suddenly take a full month's holiday and fly on a muggle plane halfway around the world to the most uncomfortable city for wizards for no reason. She had to have found Potter.

And she would unknowingly lead him to The-Boy-Who-Lived. If it wasn't beneath his dignity, he would have shouted for joy when he saw her talking to that blasted white owl. And so, Draco Malfoy, the last scion of one of the oldest and purest families in wizarding Britain, waited. And he plotted his revenge on the boy who killed his father…

* * *

It had been a huge gamble, but it had paid off. With an eight and a four as his hole cards, and a seven and a five in the flop, he needed a six to turn up in the river. And it did. He was pretty sure he had the best hand now. The other options were: a straight with a nine high, three aces or tens, or two pair aces over tens. Nothing showed on his face as his mind raced through the possibilities. With a small blind of $500 and a big blind of $1000, and all the betting that had gone on this hand, Harry calculated there was over $50,000 in this pot. 

Everyone else had folded. Now, all he was waiting for was his last opponent to call or fold. The Chinese businessman's face was as blank as Harry's, but but he noticed the beads of sweat starting to form on the forehead. _He can't have anything better than three aces, _Harry thought, _or else he would have called already. _

With a Chinese curse that Harry didn't understand, the businessman threw another $8,000 worth of chips into the pot.

"I call," he spat, turning over two aces. "Show your cards, you green-eyed devil!"

With a smile, Harry flipped over his four and his eight, revealing the winning straight. The businessman cursed again as everyone else at the table groaned. Just once, they would love to see someone get the better of Harry at this game! The dealer started stacking the chips to transfer to Harry's hand, as Harry leaned back with a sigh. This had been one of the crucial hands of the night. Texas Hold 'Em was a game of patience, oftentimes taking five hours or more for a clear winner to emerge.

He returned the seated bow of respect the businessman gave and absentmindedly noticed the dealer waving his hands for the camera to show that he hadn't palmed any chips.

Harry heard the door to the high roller lounge open, and turned his head to see who was coming in. He smiled as he recognized his old friend, Texas ("don't call me anything but my nickname") walk in with his arm around another of his beautiful wom…

No, it couldn't be. As Texas raised his hand to point out Harry's seat, Harry stared at a face he hadn't seen in nine years, at a face he had expected to see a few years before now, and then, when he was never found, a face he honestly didn't expect to see again.

* * *

When Hermione looked where the man who called himself Texas was pointing, she saw the look of panic and shock that seemed frozen on Harry's face. For an instant, she felt horribly guilty about tracking him down when it was possible that he wasn't ready to be found. _Please don't let him run, _she thought, _let me at least get a chance to talk to him._ She was sure that she could convince him that only she knew he was here. She promised herself that, if he wanted, she would keep his secret no matter what. Then she saw him stand up and start walking towards her, a bit unsteady on his feet, as if he had taken a blow to the head. She saw his lips move silently, but she knew he had said, "Hermione?" 

"Harry?" She whispered. She was asking herself more than out loud, but Texas still nodded and lifted his arm off her shoulder. She saw Harry nod his head in response.

"HARRY!" With a shout that broke the concentration of everyone in the lounge, Hermione ran to her oldest and best friend in the world. The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, hugging him with all her strength, tears streaming down her face. Then she noticed all the muscles Harry had acquired somewhere, and that he was squeezing her hard enough to bruise. All of a sudden, she couldn't breathe and started pushing away. Harry let her go and she stepped back, gasping for breath, laughing, crying, and suddenly, totally unsure of what to say.

* * *

A/N: Went back and added appropriate scene breaks in the chapter, nothing else is new. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter Four**

Texas was not your average millionaire playboy Vegas regular. For one thing, he was "new money." His wealth was recent, and most of it came from Vegas itself.

In 2003, Texas went to Iraq with his unit in the Army. After a year of pure hell, Texas considered himself lucky to return to the States with all his limbs and both his eyes still intact. He had also saved up close to $25,000 during his year over there. Single, with no close family, Texas found himself facing a full month of leave and nowhere to go. He decided to go to Vegas, the single soldier's paradise. He had heard rumors while in Iraq of one of those whorehouses giving out a free run to any Iraqi veteran, so he figured he might as well check it out.

He estimated that he could blow through his twenty-five grand in about a week, and spend the rest of his leave back at the barracks. He knew he was going to go career, so he wasn't worried about saving money. He would be back in Iraq or Afghanistan in a year or two anyways.

Then he started winning. After a week in Vegas, he took a look at his bank account, and was more than a little surprised to find close to three hundred thousand dollars. He realized he had slept maybe 12 hours in the last week, he still hadn't gone to check out that whorehouse, and he didn't really mind.

He was being invited to some high stakes poker games by some of the better players in the country. And he was winning. A forty-thousand buy in the other day netted him close to two hundred thousand. He cancelled his return ticket and set up another ticket for the end of his month.

He originally planned to take a week off gambling and see the sights of Vegas. What he hadn't counted on was meeting Harry Potter. Right outside the Bellagio, two hoodlums attacked a scrawny looking man who couldn't have been much older than he was. Being closer than the security that was running out of the casino, Texas helped out. With a few nasty maneuvers he had learned, he managed to break one of the attackers' arms. The other attacker gave the victim a black eye before the security managed to restrain him. Another security guard grabbed Texas and threw him to the ground, not sure of his role in the mugging, but the victim spoke up.

"Let him go, he helped me out." The security must have known the young man, because he immediately got off Texas.

"So," the man asked as he helped Texas up. "Who do I owe for saving my life, and how can I pay you back?"

"My platoon calls me Texas, unless they want a fight, 'cause I don't answer to my real name. And you don't owe me a damned thing. I've always enjoyed a good fight!"

"Well, Texas, my name is Harry, and the least you could let me do is buy you dinner. I was headed to eat anyways."

Texas let himself be talked into dinner ("only if you let me pick the restaurant") and found a kindred soul. His stories of Iraq were matched by Harry's tales of a crime lord who killed his parents when he was a baby, and then tried to kill him fifteen years later. Texas was shocked to find out that Harry had killed that crime lord before he turned eighteen.

Harry was sparse with the details, but admitted that he disappeared when the press started trying to portray him as a rival crime lord. Texas was a war vet himself, and knew not to push on some details.

Harry left Texas alone about some of his year in Iraq and the two struck up a close friendship. For the next three weeks, Harry showed Texas the expensive side of Vegas. He revealed that his parents were very wealthy before they were killed and with his bank account being left alone through his childhood, he now had more money than he knew what to do with.

Many of the Vegas regulars Harry introduced expressed their dismay at Texas for saving the man who took all their money every week, but they were joking. It seemed that all the regulars genuinely liked this Harry Potter and expressed their gratitude in subtle ways. He couldn't remember ever paying for a drink after the fight. He was also always admitted into any high roller lounge on the strip, where, more often than not, he found a spot on the poker table already bought in for him. No one at the table or in the lounge would admit to buying him in, and when Texas won any money, they suggested that he keep it until his benefactor admitted to it.

Harry swore he wasn't buying Texas in or spending all sorts of money, and he refused to take a dime that Texas had. For some reason, he found Harry believable and concluded that the other regulars were doing it, not that he could figure out why. Texas resigned to stop counting money and just enjoy the rest of his leave.

* * *

As a result, when his month was up, and he was ready to go home, he was shocked to find close to three million dollars in his bank account. Nobody in his company would believe his story. And they didn't, not until he proved it by showing his bank account. 

Two days later, he was called into his Company Commander's office. When asked, he repeated his unlikely story. His CO then explained something called a "Change of Lifestyle" discharge. Evidently, if a soldier receives a certain amount of money, beyond a determined multiple of his yearly salary, he was discharged. After all, his CO explained, if you were in a bad mood and told your squad leader to fuck off; the Army couldn't exactly throw you into Leavenworth. The regular punishment, taking rank and money, was pretty much useless to someone with three million in the bank.

The problem was that this rule was mostly for soldiers who received an inheritance. His CO was concerned because Texas won all his money, and he wasn't expecting to have so much. Because he came from lower middle class, it was just as easy for Texas to lose all his money as he won it. The CO didn't want Texas leaving the army and finding himself broke a month or two later.

There was another option, however. Texas' ETS date was coming up in a little over a year, and Texas hadn't had the chance to re-enlist, yet. If Texas kept quiet about his money, the CO wouldn't report it. But he wanted to see Texas demonstrate the capability to manage his money responsibly. If, when Texas' time in service was up, he was able to convince the CO he could live off the money without losing it all, the CO would make sure he didn't get the Change of Lifestyle discharge, and instead get the Honorable discharge when it came time to leave the Army. The CO ended the meeting by giving Texas a few recommendations for financial advisors that would do a good job with the money.

Texas walked out of the office shocked. He had never realized he could be kicked out of the Army for being rich! He found himself dialing Harry's number, who was overjoyed to hear from him. He repeated everything the CO had told him. And Harry started laughing. He was unable to talk for a minute he was laughing so hard, but when he finally calmed down, Harry explained that Texas would never have anything to worry about money-wise. Anything he needed, Harry assured, he had only to ask. Harry seemed to understand when Texas protested that he didn't want to be a free-loader. Harry's second suggestion sounded much better. He made Texas promise to meet with a representative for his financial advisor.

So, the next weekend, Texas was talking to a lawyer to represented a firm called "Gringotts," a very old, very exclusive, very secret organization that would only take new clients by recommendation. The lawyer, though formal, was very friendly, answering any questions Texas had. He even agreed with the list the CO gave him, saying that Texas would do very well with any of the firms the CO recommended. He offered Texas an experiment. Put one million with one of those firms (and the lawyer circled the firm he thought best) and one million with Gringotts. Texas should be able to live of the other eight hundred thousand for a year. After the year, he could examine the earnings and decide if he wanted to stay with Gringotts.

Gringotts was, of course, a crushing success. During a slow economic period, Gringotts managed to earn nearly three hundred thousand more than the other firm. Long story short, Texas found himself back in Vegas a little over a year after he left, this time to stay.

* * *

Two years ago, Texas found out exactly why Harry was so reluctant to talk about his past. The Full Story. One night, they were talking on the phone when armed gunmen suddenly broke into Texas' apartment. There were three of them, and their Heckler & Koch MP5's meant business. Texas wasn't able to say a word, but Harry heard the noise from the break-in over the phone. The robbers had Texas covered and one of them went into his bedroom to search for his hidden safe when Harry was in the apartment. 

Not counting the fact that it took under a minute for Harry to travel from his suite in the Bellagio to Texas' apartment, he also appeared out of thin air! Harry showed evidence of the work outs and martial arts training that Texas had introduced when he roundhouse-kicked the first robber in the head from behind, then punched the second robber in the throat when he turned around.

The third robber rushed out of the bedroom to find out what the commotion was. He was too far away for Harry to do anything, and Texas knew they were going to die. The next five seconds passed in slow motion. Texas saw the robber bring his machine gun up and start firing. Harry ducked and rolled, coming into a crouching position with a piece of wood in his hand. Harry yelled something that Texas couldn't understand with the gunfire in the background, and a beam of red light flew from the stick to the robber. The gun flew out of the robbers hands, and the robber was thrown back into the wall. He started to stand back up, and Harry yelled something that sounded like "stupid guy." Another beam of red light, this one a little brighter, flew from the stick and the robber slumped unconscious when it hit him.

Time sped back up and Harry stared at his hand, as if surprised to find a piece of wood there, instead of a real weapon.

"Shit." With the muttered curse, Harry turned to Texas, a look of panic in his eyes. "I promise, I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, but you can not mention this to the police." Texas could only nod; he didn't even mention that the cops would think he was crazy if he did mention what he saw.

"Alright," Harry continued. "Here's the story. I came by your place to work out. I was in the bathroom when these guys broke in. I called 911 on my cell phone, then tried to take them by surprise. I snuck up on the first two and hid by the bedroom wall for the third guy to come out. When he did, I grabbed him and knocked his head against the wall. He reflexively fired the gun and I kicked it out of his hand." It was a good story and Texas couldn't seem to find any inconsistencies for the cops to find.

The two friends tore up some bed sheets to turn into makeshift restraints. When the three robbers were tied up, Harry brought out his stick again and pointed it at the third robber. He muttered some nonsense words, "obliviate" and "enervate." The robber started waking up as Harry stored his stick out of sight. Then, they settled down to wait for the cops, ignoring the third robber's questions of "Where am I? What's happening?"

Two hours later, they finally left the police station, having apparently satisfied the cops with their story. Harry's lawyer, who was waiting at the station, certainly helped to keep the cops civil. A limousine was waiting for them as they left, and took them to Harry's suite in the Bellagio. Harry ordered up some Starbucks, promising Texas a long night of stories.

And so, Texas learned about magic. He never would have believed a word of Harry's story if not for what he saw back at the apartment. He found out that Harry was a child of prophecy, and the crime lord was actually an evil wizard, and that Harry was destined to be the final weapon against this wizard. He was shocked to find out that Harry had killed the wizard before he even turned eighteen.

Harry explained about going to school at Hogwarts, and about the anachronistic society that wizards lived in. Texas also learned about a blood prejudice that went back over a thousand years, one which made the racial tensions in the 1960's seem almost tame. The one thing Harry didn't talk about was details about his friends.

All Harry would say about them is that they would be looking for him.

* * *

Texas expected it every day for the next two years, but was still surprised when he saw Hedwig flying down to that woman without any promise of food. He knew all the other regulars who knew Harry and Hedwig, and she wasn't any of them. He was pretty sure she was a wizard. No, _witch_ he corrected himself. It's not an insult in their society. 

He could tell she was nervous. Harry had mentioned something about Las Vegas being extremely uncomfortable for wizards and witches because its electrical field was so strong it interfered with magic, and she definitely seemed uncomfortable. Hedwig was an excellent judge of character, however, so if the owl trusted this woman, Texas resolved to see what he could do to help.

He was unprepared for the naked hope he saw in her eyes, but all it did was convince him to help her. So, with a little hesitation, he agreed to take her to Harry.

When he saw the initial panic in Harry's eyes, he worried that he had let his friend down. The joy that replaced that look though, and the way they tried to squeeze each other in half left him convinced he had done the right thing. So, with a huge grin on his face, Texas walked over to join the reunion.

* * *

A/N: Went back and added the correct scene breaks within the chapter, nothing else is new. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter Five**

"Well, well, well," Texas drawled. "Looky what the cat drug in. I take it you two know each other?" The Cheshire Cat would have been proud of the grin on Texas' face.

"Texas, just where the hell did you manage to find her?"

"Well, I saw your little lady talkin' to this little lady right outside. As I told her, I was surprised to see ol' Hedwig talking to someone who didn't have food in their hand. I figured she might be one of your old friends since Hedwig seemed to trust her.

"Besides," Texas continued with a laugh. "She gave me some of the most heartbreakin' puppy-dog eyes I've ever seen when she asked about you, I just couldn't say 'no' to the lady."

"I did not have puppy-dog eyes!" Hermione protested. Harry just laughed, and in truth, she was laughing a little bit also.

"'Mione, I've never been able to cure Texas of his delusion that beautiful women everywhere seem to make puppy-dog eyes at him. It's his own brand of compliment."

Hermione blushed as she realized that Harry was saying that Texas thought she was beautiful, but whatever she was about to say got interrupted by the dealer of Harry's forgotten poker game.

"Mr. Potter, are you going to play anymore tonight, or should I cash your chips in?" Texas saw smiles on each normally inscrutable face at the table.

"What? Oh!" Hermione realized that Harry apparently forgot where he was as he stammered. "Yes," he said, grabbing a couple chips and tossing them to the dealer. "For you. Cash me out, normal procedure." He turned the Chinese business man. "Mr. Zhang, I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly, but…" but he was cut off by a wave of the man's hand.

"I refuse to accept an apology, Mr. Potter, when there is no reason to take offense. I'm afraid I will have to try to win my money back some other night."

Harry hardly paid attention as the pit boss arrived to confirm the count of his chips, which amused Texas. Normally, Harry always knew exactly how many chips he and his opponents had, but tonight, Texas wouldn't be surprised if Harry forgot about his winnings completely.

"Tell you what, Hermione. Let me get cleaned up a little, then I'll take you and Ron out for supper. We can catch up on old times then. Which hotel are you two staying at?" Harry wondered at the weird look on Hermione's face when he mentioned Ron's name.

"Ron… Ron doesn't know that I'm here," she said in a small voice. "Nobody knows I'm here. I wasn't even sure that you were here, so I just came on my own, I didn't want to raise anybody's hopes and I didn't know if you would be mad if I did find you. I mean, in case you didn't want to be found." Hermione knew she was babbling, but she was nervous and didn't know exactly how to tell Harry about what happened between her and Ron.

Harry was touched that Hermione was willing to keep his secret from everybody, but he was sure that she would tell her husband. Especially when her husband was his other best friend!

"Um, ok. Which hotel are you staying at then? Texas wouldn't mind driving you back while…" he broke off when Hermione started shaking her head.

"I've only been in the city for about an hour. I haven't found a hotel, yet."

"But, then… where are your bags?"

"I didn't bring any," she admitted.

Harry was stunned. This was completely unlike the Hermione he remembered. She always had a plan of some sort; she always kept a clear mind. Harry wondered again how she had found him, and why she left her home so suddenly that she didn't even pack a bag. This thought set off another worry in his mind, one that he put to the back burner while he worried about getting his friend settled.

"Here's an idea," he said. "We'll head up to my suite and order room service. I have an extra room that you can use as long as you need. Going out tonight might be a little much considering Vegas."

Hermione nodded. That was starting to sound like a good idea. Using a muggle plane seemed like a good way to avoid the notice of other witches and wizards, but now the jet lag was already threatening to catch up with her. She started moving to the door, but noticed that Harry hadn't followed.

"Texas, aren't you coming?" Texas laughed.

"If you think I'mma intrude on your reunion tonight, yer absolutely fuckin' loco!" But Harry shook his head.

"I need to talk to you for a few minutes. It won't take long, and it might be important." Texas wondered what his friend might need, but he wasn't going to argue any more down here. So the three of them left the high roller's lounge, headed to the elevators, and Harry's suite.

* * *

Hermione was impressed. Even though she had seen Harry playing in a high stakes game with an impressive pile of chips, she still hadn't expected a room this luxurious. Granted, her few experiences with Muggle hotel rooms were one-room boxes with a queen-size bed or two doubles, but this… this was nice! The main room was a sitting room with a couch, loveseat and two cushy looking armchairs. There was a small kitchenette off to the side. Harry had two bedrooms, each with a king-sized bed and their own bath! 

There were rumors of the Potter and Black family fortunes when Harry had first disappeared, but Hermione had never thought of Harry, who always wore clothes two sizes too big for him, who always had the same pair of cheap glasses (_by the way, _she just noticed, _where were his glasses?_) as rich. This room, though, even more than the poker game downstairs was evident of Harry's wealth. She hadn't really expected to see Harry comfortable with so much money, but he seemed quite used to it.

"This will be your room," he said, opening the door on the left. "Why don't you go ahead and take a shower. I'll make sure your clothes are clean."

"The laundry service is that fast at this hotel?" Hermione noticed Texas still in the room with them, so she played at being a muggle.

"Of course not." Harry didn't miss a beat as he said, "I'll just use my wand. Or if you want, you can clean them yourself." Hermione gasped and looked at Texas. "He knows, 'Mione. He's known for about two years."

"But… but how?!"

"I told him, Hermione." Shocked, Hermione could only nod.

"I think I'll take my shower, now." When the door closed, Texas turned to Harry.

"Alright, Harry. What do you need that's so important that you'd bring me up here when you have a reunion to get started with such a beautiful friend?"

Harry blushed.

"Look, she's just a friend, alright?" Harry shook his head and groaned silently at Texas' smirk. "I need you to contact Gringotts, have them get a hold of their London counterparts and find out Hermione's normal schedule. I don't think she was as discreet in coming here as she thinks."

"What do you mean?"

"The Hermione I know would never had taken off and flown halfway around the world without luggage, or a plan of any sort. In fact, I'd have to say that she acted exactly the way she always nagged at me for acting, going off half-cocked with some crazy idea in my head. I'm betting that her sudden departure might have raised a few eyebrows wherever she worked. Make sure Gringotts keeps their questions discreet. I don't want anymore eyebrows raised."

"Are you sure she's being followed?"

"Let's just say that I'm betting on it. I don't want to take the chance that she wasn't."

Texas thought Harry was being a bit paranoid. After all, that Voldemort guy was dead, but he would do what Harry asked.

"Is there anything else you need?"

* * *

For the first time since she broke up with Ron, Hermione was nervous about the way she looked. She noticed how Harry's clothes seemed individually tailored, and how good they made him look. She was feeling very frumpy with jeans and a shirt. She hadn't expected him to look so good, or for her to react how she did. She loved Harry, but it had always been like he was the brother she never had growing up. Maybe she never really noticed him because she was always interested in Ron. 

She definitely wasn't prepared for the 'new' Harry. Seeing him in those perfectly tailored clothes, with his piercing green eyes not hidden by any glasses, made her heart skip a beat. And her body responded when she felt all those wonderful muscles he seemed to have acquired somewhere. She hoped her new-found attraction wasn't obvious. Her jet lag should have hidden most of the flush on her face.

She hoped Harry wouldn't treat her differently than she remembered… prayed that he would. She caught herself standing naked in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom, picking out real or imagined imperfections, wondering if Harry would notice those imperfections.

_What the hell?_ She thought. _When would Harry get the chance to notice those imperfections?_

_Maybe tonight? _A little voice in the back of her mind said.

"Shut up," she responded out loud.

The shower, she noticed, did not have those single serving hotel shampoos. Instead, she found a full selection of body washes, shampoos and conditioners. She recognized some of those bottles as the most expensive in her local market. She felt an insane flash of jealousy.

_Does Harry entertain so many women that he keeps all this crap in this room?_

Hermione wasn't ready to admit it, but she was falling for Harry.

Hard.

* * *

A/N: Went back and added the breaks between scenes for the chapters, nothing else is new.


	6. Chapter 6

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter Six**

There are certain easily identifiable microcosms of people within the macrocosm of Las Vegas. The largest and most mercurial of these groups are known as 'temps.' These are the people that are only in Vegas for days to a week at a time. Most only visit Las Vegas once in their lifetime. Vegas is an American Mecca for these people; people make this pilgrimage, knowing they will lose their money, but convincing themselves that they will be the one to strike the jackpot. Almost every temp leaves Vegas with a slimmer wallet than they came with. The experience, though. They have fond memories of their visit, and always have a recommended highlight for any of their friends planning to make the pilgrimage.

Then you have the celebrities, those who make their homes on the west coast, who travel to Vegas to spend money and get their faces in the paper with photographs of compromising situations. Celebrities are expected to get caught. It's a badge of honor for those make their living entertaining the vastly larger majority of the American public. A much smaller group than the temps, celebrities spend almost as much as the first group.

The third group is the support. These people range from the lowliest janitors and cocktail waitresses all the way to the pit bosses and hotel managers. They make their living off the obscene amounts of money thrown away by the temps and celebrities. The do their best to take care of their cash cow, making sure they wring every last cent they can without allowing too many people to go bankrupt. Las Vegas gets far more publicity by word of mouth than any advertising campaign. A bankruptcy is as much negative publicity as losing smaller amounts of money for a fun experience can be good publicity when reminiscing. So, the cocktail waitresses sweet talk the drunk gamblers into going up to their rooms to sleep it off. The hotel managers will offer him a free that has already been paid for by the patron's rolls of the dice.

The support group also keeps dossiers on the big spenders, mostly the celebrities. There are a few of the transients with enough money to visit again and again, spending money enough to warrant a dossier, but they don't have the ridiculous demands that most celebrities have, from a celebrity's favorite drink to the requirement to have 2 bowls of nothing but green M&M's in each room, to wanting nothing but white furniture in their suite. The support group handles it all.

Including the dossiers on the fourth, and smallest group in The City of Neon. If printed out, each dossier could conceivably resemble a good-sized novel. These were the likes, dislikes, preferences and quirks of the elite. In a city where most people lose money, these people have found their fortunes, their lives. They live of Vegas the way Vegas lives off the other three groups. They are people to whom the loss of three million dollars in a poker game would not be mourned. They are the rich who are so wealthy, they stopped counting. Money is just a way to keep score. There is old money, foreign money, hard-earned money and laundered money. It is rare for new money to survive long in this city. Most new money is lost as quickly as it is found. Every important worker in every casino knows each face of the elite.

Because the elite live off the city, they take care of it. It is a symbiotic relationship, where their every need being met is rewarded by anonymous donations to local politicians' re-election funds, fundraisers for certain charities, even outright cash-under-the-table bribes. The law of the land does not touch these people. They make their own rules, live how they want. Some will follow the rules unless it needs to be broken. They sometimes even feel guilty for breaking the rule, but it won't stop them the next time it needs to happen. Then there are others in this group that disregard every rule, regarding it as celebration of the kind of freedom money buys.

It is a close community, where any request of another member is usually honored, when asked for correctly. And that was what Texas needed to figure out: how to ask the correct person in the correct manner to acquire what Harry needed.

* * *

Hermione was pretty sure that this towel had more cotton than was legal. The shower was hotter and had more water pressure than the one in her London flat. The amazing array of body washes and pretty much forced her to try each one out. And after one sniff of that one shampoo, she needed to wash her hair. That meant she needed to use conditioner, even though it never worked on her hair.

Her hair.

She let out a frustrated sigh when she really wanted to scream. Now she had two problems. First, she had already spent longer in the shower than she had meant, and now her hair was wet! She had kept Harry waiting long enough, but she couldn't go out with wet hair and it was completely untamable right after it dried and not matter what she was going to look like a mess when she went out there and Harry was never going to fall for her if she looked like a joke and damn him! Why did he have to look so sexy and have all those muscles if he wasn't interested in her?!

WHY did she never pay attention back at school when Lavender and Parvati would spend all night discussing those ridiculous beauty charms? She never thought she would regret not learning those "useless" spells. Maybe Harry would understand bad hair. Look at his, after all. No, he was allowed to look messed up. She would look like a monster if she didn't do something! Groaning, she set out to do the best she could do.

Five minutes later, she stepped into the bedroom and saw her clothes, still dirty, lying on the same spot on her bed. She was initially hurt that Harry didn't clean her clothes like he offered, but then she realized that she locked her door when she came in. Harry would never invade her privacy like that. Besides, this, at least, she could do. Molly Weasley had taught her a spell that would make dirty clothes clean, and smell like they just came down off a clothesline. She let out a sigh. She really couldn't blame Molly for taking her son's side during the break-up, but still 5 years later, it hurt.

Finally, almost forty-five minutes since she started getting ready, she walked out to find supper, and Harry, waiting.

* * *

Harry Potter didn't realize it, but his name was at the top of a certain list belonging to the hotel manager whose primary job was to cater to Vegas' elite. His photographic memory and need to sleep only about two hours a night made him perfect for this job. He rarely had to consult the computer files for any elite. But Harry was his priority.

So when the pit boss of the high roller's lounge reported that Mr. Potter was suggesting taking some friends out to dinner, the manager was immediately informed and made reservations in Harry's name at eight different of his favorite restaurants, three of them normally with a waiting list a month long. He also arranged for one of the hotel's limousines to stand by, as well as a second one to get ready to pick up the second friend mentioned: this Ron. He checked with other hotel managers, who reported that there were no recent arrivals or check-ins with the names of Ron and/or Hermione. A contact at the Las Vegas Airport revealed that a Hermione Granger landed a little less than an hour ago, but there was no Ron, first name or last, on the same flight. The manager deduced, almost at the same time as Harry found out, that this Ron wasn't in Vegas.

When he found out that Hermione Granger did not have a hotel room or even any luggage, he predicted that Harry would offer the extra room in his suite to someone who was obviously an old friend. The maid service was alerted to supply a full range of female personal grooming products, to include shampoos, conditioners and body washes. He realized there was nothing in his file about Hermione, and could not do anything about her garment situation. He resolved to make a note to be better prepared for future unexpected visitors.

When the pit boss next reported that Harry suggested room service, the manager called the hotel kitchens, ordering them to start work on three of Harry's favorite dishes. He had to guess for the friend, so he chose five different entrées to start cooking. He debated ordering food for Texas, but the pit boss reported that Texas was not likely to dine with the other two.

Now, the manager had only one question. Was this a romantic dinner? The three subjects were riding the elevator while the manager reviewed the hotel security tapes of the reunion. They didn't kiss, but the hug seemed enthusiastic enough. The trip to the elevator revealed very little contact except Mr. Potter's hand guiding her past the slot machines. He noticed that Hermione did seem a little more flushed than jet lag would account for. He decided that Harry's intentions might be innocent, but she was definitely attracted to him. Candles would be too direct with dinner tonight, but maybe the right bottle of wine?

* * *

Any time Harry Potter picked up his hotel phone to dial room service or the concierge, he was automatically redirected to the manager, who was not surprised to hear Harry order the first two of his picks for dinner. He smiled when Mr. Potter seemed unsure of what drink to order. Smoothly, he cut in, suggesting the bottle of wine he had already decided would accompany the tray up to the room. If Mr. Potter didn't take his hint, he could afford to write the bottle off as a complimentary gift. The manager then asked if Harry would like him to arrange a shopping trip to help his friend buy some new clothes.

Harry, long since accustomed to the hotel staff knowing more than even he did about himself sometimes, agreed with the bottle of wine, and thought a shopping trip sounded like fun. He suggested it be arranged for the afternoon, so she could finish sleeping off her jet lag. The manager neglected to inform Harry that he had already thought of that.

Five minutes after Harry hung up, the food was ready. The manager couldn't let it be sent up, yet, though. He figured how long Hermione would take in the shower, and then getting dressed. He instructed the kitchen to keep the food warm enough for thirty-two minutes and then send it up. He estimated that the food would be sitting inside the hotel room for five minutes when she walked out of her room. As it turned out, it sat for seven and a half minutes, but nobody is perfect.

* * *

Members of the elite did not refuse a request to meet, not without a very good reason. When Texas was integrated into the group, however, he found that not every at the top of the pyramid liked Harry. Not that any elite truly hated another elite, but the public face of cooperation was often just a veneer.

The shopping list Texas received from Harry had enough specialized equipment that there were few people he could ask. The time requirement Harry indicated meant there was only one. He briefly considered sending an intermediary, but decided it would be faster to go himself. After all, he already was an intermediary, why have another? So, he showered, shaved and changed into a business suit. While much more respectable than the silly t-shirts he liked wearing, he still felt like a stiff.

Now he was sitting in the office of one of the few men in Vegas that truly disliked Harry Potter, Don Rafael, not his real name, but who was Texas to call a kettle black? Born Peter Winston in New York City, he was only half Italian, and had the misfortune of not being related to any of the important Mafia families. After seeing The Godfather at much too early an age, though, he realized that his only goal in life was to be a crime boss. Combined with an almost instinctive ability to pick the winners in any sporting situation, he ran sports books and gambling rings that always let him come out on top, fair and square. He never got caught… not by the law, at least.

Fifteen years ago, he was 'invited' to meet with a minor lieutenant of one of the crime families. The man was very polite and very civil while talking about how far into their business Peter was cutting.

He was very polite, very civil and very terrifying while describing just what would happen if Mr. Winston decided to stay in New York City for longer than 48 hours.

Winston knew when to cut and run. He went to Vegas where the rest of his luck held, and within a few years, he was one of the rich and powerful, one of the elite. In the absence of a strong Mob presence, he slowly consolidated all the small-time criminals and illegal rackets.

Now, he was the only man with the ability to get exactly what Harry needed, quickly. He was the best man to go to, Texas thought. _If only he wasn't so damn petty._ Don Rafael wouldn't refuse to meet with an elite, but he would have no problem keeping Texas waiting for the past half-hour, solely on the basis of his friendship with Harry.

Texas sipped the beer one of Rafael's lackeys' provided, fuming, reminding himself not to lose his temper. Finally, Don Rafael entered the office.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting. I had an urgent call that had to be taken care of."

_I'm sure you did, you bastard. _"No problem, Don Rafael, I realize that my request to meet was also sudden."

"Yes, it was quite out of the blue. I have to admit to no small amount of curiosity as to why you needed to suddenly see me."

Texas was sure that Don Rafael knew all about Harry's visitor. Secrets among the elite were a rarity. _Like Harry's magic? _Texas was sure that he was the only person in Vegas that knew Harry was a wizard. But, if Rafael wanted small talk, Texas would have to play along.

"You might have heard some rumors that an old friend of Mr. Potter's ran into him tonight."

"I might have heard something like that. A very beautiful woman, if I heard right."

"Well, I ain't gonna argue that," Texas laughed. He knew that turning his accent on and off would annoy the Don, but sometimes, he couldn't help it.

"So, while Mr. Potter reunites with his lady friend, he sent you to me."

"Well, not exactly." Rafael motioned for Texas to explain. "Harry is concerned that she might have been followed by other old 'friends' of his. While he doesn't mind that she found him, he would rather no one else discovered his location. He asked me to acquire some items of a defensive nature."

Texas handed the list to the Don, who studied it for a minute.

"Mr. Potter requested these items specifically?" Texas nodded. "So he did send you to me."

"Well, he didn't mention your name…" but Don Rafael cut him off.

"Come now, Mr. Texas. You know, I know and I'm sure Mr. Potter knows that I am the best person to get these items. He probably wants them last night. So, my question to you, now, is why didn't he ask me himself?"

Texas sighed, dropping the act. "A couple reasons that stand out in my mind. First, he needs these as soon as possible. Second, it would disrupt his reunion to come himself tonight. And third, because you two aren't exactly best buddies."

Don Rafael nodded at the first two points and actually laughed at the last.

"Sometimes, Mr. Texas, your bluntness works better than your attempts to be polite. I can have what you need in an hour. Should I deliver the items to you, or to Mr. Potter?"

Texas was surprised. He figured the Don was stall, especially after his outburst.

"Thank you, Don Raphael. I can pick them up from here if that works. Should I call you in an hour?"

"Of course. Now, I hate to be abrupt, but I have another 'sudden' appointment."

_Of course you do. Probably arranged so you could kick me out as soon as you could. _Texas drained the last of his beer, then stood up, shook Don Raphael's hand and made his way out of the office, where he bumped into a tall man with long blond hair.

* * *

Don Raphael was intrigued. First, Texas had requested some very interesting supplies on behalf of Mr. Potter, and now, thanks to a call about half an hour ago, he was meeting with an associate of some of his old 'friends' back in New York, the same ones that requested he find a new place of residence. He turned his attention to this unknown.

"It's not often people from New York call me up so late at night requesting I meet with a third party," he said to the man now in his office. "How may I help you, Mr. Malfoy?"

* * *

A/N: I went back in and added breaks for the different scenes. I had no idea I had to do that from the edit function on now I know.

I shouldn't have these problems next chapter I update. I'm typing chapter 7 tonight and tomorrow. I'll spend most of the day proofreading it, and I should have it up either just before Halloween, or during the day sometime.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I know I said Halloween originally for this chapter, but I hit a nice flow typing the chapter out, and I proofread it 3 times, so I posted it a bit early.

I realize that this chapter itself is half as long as the rest of my story so far, but I really didn't have a good place to stop the chapter...

* * *

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter 7**

Hermione started to apologize for taking so long, but Harry stopped her.

"Hermione, I think that if you can forgive me for disappearing for nine years, I can forgive you for taking forty-five minutes to get ready."

"And just what makes you think that I've forgiven you, Harry?" She was trying to make a joke, but still, Hermione winced at the tone of her voice, but Harry just laughed.

"So, I suppose that wasn't a hug downstairs? You really were trying to crush my ribs?"

Hermione blushed, but had to laugh as well. "Ok, we might both be forgiven, but you have serious explaining to do." Then she noticed the aroma. "Is that food I smell?" Harry pointed to the table room service had set up.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted to eat, so I guessed. I hope it's ok."

"Harry, I've had nothing but airline food for the past day. I'll admit that I could eat anything right now, but whatever you have smells wonderful." Hermione then noticed the bottle of wine chilling in the bucket. _Does it mean anything? _She asked herself. Maybe this was normal for Harry. He was filthy rich, so maybe he drank wine with every meal now. Still, she allowed herself to hope.

"Well, I picked out some char grilled salmon in herb sauce, or a very tender steak, one of the best I've ever had. I like either, so you can have your pick." As famished as Hermione was, she had an easy time choosing.

"I'll take the steak."

Harry pulled out her chair, then sat down and expertly popped the cork off the bottle of wine. As he poured two glasses, Hermione's curiosity got the better of her. "Harry, what's with the wine?"

Harry actually blushed, "Oh, well, I didn't know what you might like to drink, and I obviously couldn't order butterbeer or pumpkin juice, but the concierge suggested the wine."

Hermione took a sip. "Well, this wine is much better than I've had in a long time.

"Harry, what happened? Why'd you run away?" The small talk was starting to feel strained, so she decided to just cut to the chase.

"I think we both have a few stories to tell," Harry sighed. "Maybe it would be better if we took turns?"

"A question for a question?" She asked. "That sounds fair. So, who starts?"

"Well, I think you did, just now," Harry said with a smirk.

"What?!" She squawked. "Harry! That's not fair!" Her protest was too riddled with laughter to sound very serious, however.

"Alright, alright." Harry's chuckles faded. "There is one thing I need to know, first."

"How did I find you?" Harry nodded. "I'm don't think you'd believe me if I told you." At Harry's impatient look, she continued. "I saw you on the telly."

"What?!" Harry couldn't remember ever being on TV. He did his absolute best to avoid publicity.

"Well, it was only a split-second glance of your face in the background of a show about poker. I was flipping through the channels and I saw you for just a second. I recognized your scar."

Harry looked stunned at her admission. "Let me get this straight. You saw a glimpse of a face on TV, thought you recognized me, so you flew halfway around the world with no plan or luggage and managed to find me in about an hour?"

She nodded. Her impulse sounded so ridiculous the way he put it. He burst out laughing.

"'Mione, I'll teach you to play poker as long as you promise never to play against me!"

She had no clue what he was talking about, but he explained when he calmed down.

"That kind of luck is what wins millions in this city. I'm tempted to see if you'd hit a jackpot or two on the slot machines." Hermione started laughing as Harry said, "Your turn for a question." She had so many questions, she really didn't know where to start.

"What happened to your glasses?" _What the HELL?! Nine years of questions and you ask him about his glasses?_ Hermione couldn't believe that she asked such a stupid first question, but Harry actually seemed relieved.

"LASIK surgery, a few years back." _He let doctors shoot LASER BEAMS into his eyes? I would rather wear glasses!_ Hermione was quite unburdened by the actual need to wear glasses, so she couldn't really understand the relief he felt. He seemed to notice the shock on her face, though. "You really don't know how liberating it is to wake up and not have to put glasses on every morning. Why didn't you tell Ron that you found me?"

_Oh god, here it comes, _she thought. _How do I tell him?_

"Well, mostly because I wasn't sure I had found you. But also, his… wife doesn't like me talking to him, not that we have much to talk about these days."

"Wait, wha… what?!" Harry was so surprised, he actually stuttered. "What do you mean his 'wife?' What about you and Ron? What happened?"

"I answered the question; don't I get a question now?" Hermione knew Harry wasn't going to let her off that easy, not that she blamed him, but she dreaded drudging up her old heartbreak. Besides, he did deserve to know what happened between his two best friends.

"Everything was so perfect when we lived in Italy. Even after you disappeared, we thought you would contact us sooner or later, so we didn't really search as hard as the others. Besides, Ron's Auror training and my school work took up so much time, we really didn't have time to worry about you. I was going to graduate from university at the same time he finished his training and we began making plans to get married.

"Then, during the last year, there was an accident during his training. Even with some of the best medi-wizards, Ron's legs were so damaged, he lost mobility for a long time. He dropped out of the training and went back to England to heal. He initially wanted me to move back to England with him, but I only had half a year left. He was disappointed, but seemed to understand. I started looking for jobs back in London for after my graduation.

"I found a job at the Ministry and moved back the day after I graduated. We were happy again for a few months, until the day he took me out to dinner with some 'good news.'" Hermione practically spat out those last two words with a venom in her voice that Harry didn't remember ever hearing out of her before.

"He told me that McGonagall had offered him the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Now, 'I didn't have to work anymore, and we could start a family right away,' which Mrs. Weasley was overjoyed about, by the way. I told him I was happy for his job, and I was! But I enjoyed my job, and wasn't planning on quitting. He got mad, asking me how I was going to take care of the kids if I was sitting in an office all day.

"Apparently, in the Wizarding World, a married witch is expected to stay at home and not have a job. Only unmarried witches worked, and this is normal! So Ron initially couldn't understand my objections. I lost my temper when he told me to stop being silly, that of course I was going to quit my job when I had the baby. I yelled at him that if he thought I was just going to be a barefoot and pregnant housewitch that he had another think coming, and if that was all he expected out of our relationship, then he had damn well better rethink his priorities. Then I stormed out of the Leaky Cauldron and went to my parents' house."

"But, surely Ron would have come around and realized he was being stupid," Harry protested.

"He might have," Hermione sighed, "if not for who we are. Harry, when the three of us defeated Voldemort and his Death Eaters, we became famous. The press might not have bothered us as much as you, but you have to remember how grateful I was to get the offer to study in Italy. With you already gone for four years, they didn't bother us that bad when we moved back to England, but they never stopped watching us, mostly for a clue to your location.

"The argument was on the front page of the Daily Prophet the next day. Only they called it a 'break-up.' Letters started pouring in, attacking my stubbornness and talking about how I wasn't good enough for 'poor Ron.' Some of the ruder letters claimed that such a famous pureblood deserved a better match than someone like me… a Mudblood." Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes, and Harry was about to tell her to stop, but she continued…

"It was Mrs. Weasley who drove the final nail in the coffin. She came by to try to talk to me, saying it was a shame to see two people who loved each other so much having such problems. She tried to tell me how rewarding it was to raise seven children, and though I might regret quitting my job at first, when I held my first baby, I would never think about the job again.

"But you don't understand how much I love my job, Harry. I'm working in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. In the first two months of my job, I managed to get a committee formed to review the proper treatment of house elves, according to the terms of their magical slavery. I'm doing a job that's important to me, that has meaning, and it's not about money. Now, I'm assistant department head and currently working with Remus to change the laws to allow more rights to werewolves. I never would have accomplished that if I quit my job just to stay with Ron."

"Hermione, 'Mione, I understand. I do." Harry tried to calm her down, but she seemed really stressed talking about it. He was almost sorry he asked. He personally thought Ron had been an utter ass, but who the hell was his wife? _This might not be the best time to ask right now_, he thought. "Do you want me to answer a question now, or are you ok to tell me the rest? Ron's wife?"

"It's all part of the same story. I'd rather get it all out at once. I, uh, told Mrs. Weasley that there was no way I was going to quit my job and she was going to have to make do with Bill and Fleur's kids for grandkids for now. She wasn't very happy with me for that.

"While Ron and I weren't talking, that bitch Lavender Brown sank her claws into Ron. She did a real good job consoling him, telling him how unreasonable I was being. Next thing I know, he's returning all my stuff, apologizing for everything not working about, but maybe it was better this way, and he respected my position, but it wasn't compatible with his. I think she wrote him a script. I read their engagement notice in the paper three months later. Ron's been a professor for the last five years now, and he's really good at it. His two kids are three and one now, and he seems really happy."

_But you sure don't seem very happy,_ he thought. "Still, the way he treated you… it's just wrong."

"It's over and done with," Hermione stated. "I don't hate him anymore. But it's my turn for a question. What happened after your birthday party? How did you disappear so completely?"

Harry nodded, accepting the change of subject. "After such a 'fun' party, I was ready to hex anybody on sight. I thought it was better to close off the house until I was in a better mood. While I was moping the first day, I received a letter from Gringotts. It was a polite scolding from the goblins asking why I had not done my duty as head of the Potter and Black families and conducted the inventory of the vaults that was for any family vaults that had been held in trust until the next heir turned of age. They had sent me a letter the last year on my birthday, but you remember how focused we were on finding and destroying the Horcruxes. I had nothing better to do now, though, so I went to the bank. I don't think you have any clue what I found at Gringotts."

"Well, there were rumors about a fortune for a couple years after you disappeared. Draco Malfoy, at one time even tried to have you declared 'missing; presumed dead' so he could gain control of the Black vaults as the last remaining male heir. Gringotts refused to release the vaults unless he managed to actually find proof of your death."

Harry started chuckling. "That's because they knew that I wasn't dead. They're the ones who helped me disappear. They've been managing my finances ever since, and I still talk to the goblins at least once a month."

"The goblins helped you?" Hermione never would have guessed. "But how? Why?"

"It took me three full days to complete the inventories of all the vaults I now controlled. I had almost eleven billion galleons. That was way too much money for any one person to have, especially when he was already the most famous wizard in the world. Malfoy would probably have tried to have me killed for that amount of money. I didn't think there was anyone I could trust with that secret. Not then. Not in the mood I was in.

"At the time, I was already considering a long vacation, just… getting away from everyone for awhile. I figured it would be best to disappear so no one could follow or find me. The goblins were eager to help when I offered to let them keep managerial control of my vaults. It took them about a week to spread some money and fake ID's in accounts and lockboxes all around the world.

"When I disappeared, I think I spend almost 2 weeks straight on different planes, changing constantly to hide my tracks. It was actually a lot of fun pretending to be a secret agent, changing my disguises, changing my identity every couple of planes. I got so confused sometimes about where or who I was that I was sure no one else could find me. It seems a bit excessive, but I felt that was what I needed to escape from The-Boy-Who-Lived. You know, I didn't use magic at all during my escape?"

"But that's impossible," Hermione protested. "If you didn't use any magic, how do you explain what you did with the owls?"

"What about the owls?"

Hermione stared. Harry looked like he didn't have any clue what she was talking about. "You know, how did you get all the owls to stop delivering mail to you?"

"I never did anything like that," Harry insisted. "I mean, the goblins cast a charm to make me untraceable, but they said the owls would just fly around in circles. I've been getting special owls from them to deal with my money. Only Hedwig can find me."

"Harry, they didn't fly in circles. They didn't fly at all! Any owl that was given a message for you would refuse to lift its wings until the message was removed. An untraceable charm doesn't do that."

"I never knew anything about that!" Hermione believed him. He seemed so insistent, and as confused as she suddenly was. She was so sure she'd find out what spell he used, because it seemed very complicated. She was disappointed, but, to Harry's surprise, she started to giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, I was just remembering when Ginny wrote you a Howler shortly after you disappeared. She told Hermes he'd better deliver the message if he didn't want his feathers blown off. She and Hermes stared at each other for four hours. I swear, neither blinked the entire time."

Harry groaned, but his eyes were sparkling with humor.

His hand was waving in front of her face. Why was it doing that?

"Hermione…" He snapped his fingers, and her head suddenly cleared. _Oh god, I was staring into his eyes, for who knows how long? It can't have been more than a minute!_

"Huh, what?"

"I said, what happened next, with Ginny and Hermes?"

"Oh right, Ginny, the owl, the howler…" Hermione was so embarrassed. She couldn't believe she committed such a cliché as getting lost in his eyes.

_Maybe there's a bright side, _a small part of her mind said. _He probably knows you're interested, now, plus he knows you're available._

_Interested?! I'm practically throwing myself at him!_

_And that's bad because?_

She really didn't have an answer for that increasingly annoying voice in her head, so she did her best to ignore it and concentrate on the story.

"Well, after four hours with neither of them budging, the letter started smoking. Ginny realized that Hermes wouldn't deliver the Howler, so she tried to grab it and cancel the spell. That was when Hermes flew off his post, keeping out of her reach until the Howler was just about ready to explode. Then he dropped it right in front of her where it exploded and spent the next ten minutes lecturing the entire Burrow at you for scaring everyone to death and how she wasn't going to take you back and how it was definitely over. There was some language in that letter that had Molly telling Ginny that she didn't care if Ginny was turning seventeen, she was still young enough for her mother to _scourgify_ her mouth."

When Harry stopped laughing, he said, "I'm almost sorry I missed that."

"Yeah, well you missed a lot over the past nine years."

"I know." There was a hint of regret, of sadness in Harry's voice. "I'm sorry."

"Like Fred and George's double wedding…" Hermione smiled as she remembered that scene.

"Oh? Alicia and Katie finally managed to tie them down?"

"No, but that's another story and you owe me one now."

"But, I just told you about leaving England!"

"And I told you about Ginny's Howler," she argued.

"I didn't even ask about that! You just told me on your own!"

"I don't care," she proclaimed. "I'm not saying a word until you answer a question."

"Evil witch," Harry laughed. He raised his glass in defeat. "You win, but if you're done with your food, do you want to move to the couch? It's more comfortable than these chairs."

Hermione looked down at her plate in surprise. She couldn't remember taking a single bite, but sometime during the conversation, she had cleaned it off!

"I take it you enjoyed your steak then?"

"I honestly don't even remember eating it," she admitted to Harry's laughter.

"Well, let's not let the kitchen find out. The head chef can be a bit… temperamental about his food. Are you still hungry?" he asked.

"No, no I'm not," she realized, standing up. "The couch sounds great. Bring the wine."

* * *

Instead of the couch, though, Hermione headed for the loveseat. Even with the food she just ate, the two glasses she drank during the meal was starting to go to her head, giving her just enough courage to start a little bit of flirting. Besides, the loveseat had a nice view out the window, which she could claim to want to see if Harry hesitated. 

Harry didn't say a word. He just set the bucket on the end table and took a seat. Hermione held her glass up for a refill, scooting maybe a bit closer than necessary, but Harry didn't complain. Nor did she see a reason to move away when he was done filling her glass. Harry just took a sip of his own wine, casually raising his arm to the back of the couch, his fingertips barely touching her shoulder.

The touch felt like lightning. She almost missed what he was saying.

"So, your turn for a question. What do you want to know?" _Oh right, my turn to ask. _Hermione was having such a hard time thinking, she probably would have told him about Fred and George if he had asked instead.

"How does Texas know about us? About magic, I mean," she quickly clarified at the look of confusion in his eyes. Inwardly she winced.

Hermione Granger had always considered herself very intelligent. Tonight, though, she was finding out how very little she knew about something as simple as flirting, not even mentioning her lack of Beauty IQ. The 'us' comment was supposed to be a coy suggestion, was supposed to bring a smile to his lips. Instead he just looked confused! _He's not thinking about 'us' at all! _her mind raged. _He's not even considering it!_ She wanted to cry. She forced herself to listen to his explanation.

"He saved your life?" she gasped.

"Well I wasn't using magic at that point. I was pretty much running away from anything to do with magic. That was the first time I'd been attacked; I didn't realize how defenseless I was without my wand. Fortunately, Texas was in the right place at the right time, and I just had a black eye and broken glasses."

"So you just told him about magic?"

"Of course not," Harry snorted. "We became friends, but there were some things we didn't talk about. He had just got back from Iraq. He didn't tell me some of the things that made his eyes seem haunted and I didn't go into details about having to kill the criminal who killed my parents. The fact that we didn't ask the wrong questions is what made the friendship work so well."

"So then how did he find out about magic?"

"Well, he left here with more money than he came with. He had so much, he was pretty much forced to leave the Army a year later and came back here to live. He even introduced me to some physical fitness routines."

_Yeah? Well, I need to thank him_

"Then one night, some robbers broke into his apartment…"

The story Harry told her was interesting, but she realized that one thing didn't make sense…

"If you weren't doing magic and had stopped carrying your wand…"

"… then why did I have it with me that night?" Harry finished. She nodded. "I really wish I could tell you, 'Mione, but the truth is I didn't have my wand when I Apparated that night. I keep my wand in the room safe. As soon as I realized Texas was in trouble, I just Apparated without thinking. When that third robber burst out of the bedroom, I realized I was going to die. Out of instinct, I rolled when he pointed his weapon, just like dodging a spell, and suddenly my wand was in my hand as I rolled out into a crouch. I cast the spells without thinking. I honestly have no explanation. Hotel records don't even show the safe opening until I put the wand back the next day."

"That's amazing," she said, scooting a little closer for another refill. This time, when Harry put the bottle back, his hand fell on her shoulder. He was staring out the window, lost in though, and the gesture seemed so casual, but Hermione was overjoyed at the contact. She snuggled a little closer.

"I know," he was saying. "I've tried to 'call' my wand at other times, but it's never worked. Anyways, I couldn't obliviate Texas, not when he was such a good friend, so I told him the truth. To his credit, he hasn't told a soul. I doubt he's even been tempted.

"So… what's the deal with my two old business partners? What happened with Katie and Alicia and who did the two terrors end up with?"

"Can't you guess?" she teased.

"After what else you've told me tonight? I couldn't begin to guess."

Hermione giggled at the sound of exasperation that filled his voice and leaned over to grab the wine. She filled his glass and emptied the bottle into hers. When she settled herself, she was pressed up right against his side, his arm wrapped around her, his hand resting on her elbow.

"Well…" she took a sip, enjoying the delay. "Fred and George were celebrating the opening of their new Hogsmeade store and they celebrated a bit too much. When they got home, they climbed into the wrong beds."

"I'll bet Katie and Alicia weren't happy about that."

"They didn't even know until the next morning. The twins realized what they'd done and were horrified. George wanted to keep it a secret, but Fred broke down and confessed to Katie. Not only was Katie furious with what they'd done, but Alicia was volcanic when she found out George had been trying to keep the truth from them. When George blurted out that he and Fred had switched places with them once back in school, both girls went ballistic. That was when they broke up with the boys and stormed out of the flat. The twins tried to apologize, but the girls wouldn't hear of it. They finally realized it was over and went out for a bit of post break up drinking."

She paused to drain the last bit of her wine. Harry took her empty glass and set it on the table next to his.

"C'mon, who did they end up with?"

"I'm getting to that. Now shut up."

"Don't tell me to…" shut up, he was going to say, but Hermione's hand suddenly covered his mouth, muffling his retort. She was shocked she had made so bold a move, but kept her hand in place, enjoying the feel of his lips against her palm… They felt a bit moist. She wanted to keep her hand there forever _(No, I want to replace my palm with my lips)_,but instead she said,

"Now, if you promise to keep quiet, I can finish my story. Do you promise?" Harry nodded solemnly, but his eyes were full of laughter. She removed her hand, resisting the sudden urge to lick her palm, just to see what he tasted like. _Yeah, that might be a bit over the top._ Still, it was tough with her palm still tingling with the heat from his lips.

"Like I was saying, the twins went for a bit of misery drinking where they ran into two ladies who properly sympathized with poor Fred and George, claiming that Alicia and Katie overreacted, and if they couldn't tell the difference, then they obviously didn't care enough to pay attention to their boyfriends. The ladies also said such things were bound to happen when twins were involved and they needed to find women who would understand. Then they hinted about how understanding they could be."

"You know," Harry growled. "You're doing a very good job of telling me everything but their names."

"Really? I thought I mentioned their names," Hermione teased. "You know the two women, by the way."

"Hermione, stop stalling and tell me!"

"Parvati and Padma Patil."

Silence… then,

"I should have guessed," Harry groaned.

"You should have. I gave you enough clues," she said in a very snobby voice that had Harry snigger. "You should have been at their wedding. 'Do you, Fred and/or George take Parvati and/or Padma to as your lawfully wedded wife/wives?'"

"And Molly didn't have a heart attack?"

"She almost did, at first. But then she realized how happy the four of them were, and she gave them her blessing. It helped that Parvati and Padma both got pregnant at the same time. They even managed, somehow, to give birth at the exact same time, each to a little boy. You know how even with twins, one of them is a minute or so older? Well, these two terrors, and they are turning out just like Fred and George at the tender age of 5, were born at exactly the same time. They're twins in every sense but the strictly technical. Nobody even knows which kid belongs to which father/mother, or even if it's the same father with different mothers. Fred and George swear that the kids belong to different fathers but the same mother!"

"They would say that!" Harry managed to gasp out between laughs. Hermione loved hearing him laugh. He was so serious all through school that she never got to hear him laugh as much as a teenage boy should. She would tell stories to make him laugh all day if she could. But she needed to know…

"Harry, why did you never come back?"

He sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head.

_Wait, what?_

Hermione just now realized the newest position they had shifted to. Somehow, during the course of the conversation, Harry had ended up leaning in the corner of the loveseat, both his arms wrapped around Hermione, who was leaning up against him, legs sprawled out on the loveseat, her head resting on all those muscles on his chest.

She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this comfortable.

"I was stupid, I guess. At first, I didn't want to come back. I wanted to be found instead. I figured if people cared enough, they would find me, no matter how hard I made it, no matter how far I ran. I told myself that they couldn't find me because they didn't want to find me. They were looking for The-Boy-Who-Lived, not Harry Potter.

"I finally realized how stupid I was for thinking that, but by then, I'd been gone so long, I told myself I would just be disrupting everyone's lives if I waltzed back in. I'd been gone too long. I was living here then, and everyone knew Harry Potter, nobody knew The-Boy-Who-Lived. It was a nice feeling of anonymity, where I was judged only on what I did, not what I was. I kept thinking I would come back, even if just to visit, but I kept finding reasons to put it off.

"The closest I ever came was after I told Texas my story. I missed everybody so much, I couldn't even talk about you to him. But I was so afraid of going back. What if I wasn't welcome? What if everybody hated me for leaving, for being gone so long?

Hermione turned to look at him. "We don't hate you, Harry. We would never hate you."

"I know that, now. I am glad you found me, Hermione."

"So am I," she whispered, her voice barely audible. He reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Harry…" She was staring into his eyes again, and her courage fled. She couldn't say what she wanted to say, what she needed to say.

_I want you, I need you. Oh god, your eyes are so green and you look so sexy and I can't stand it anymore and will you please_ _just fucking kiss me?!_

Maybe she didn't need to say anything? He was looking at her so intensely and their heads were moving together with a speed that made a glacier seem fast. Their lips were going to meet any second, and Hermione couldn't wait!

The phone rang.

* * *

A/N: So I decided to pick the absolute worst possible place to stop the chapter. Chapter 8 is going to be written soon, sometime before the angry mob knocks at my door with torches and pitchforks... 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I created a yahoo group to keep people who are interested updated on the progress of each chapter. It's titled "royalflushbylansydyr" This chapter has a lot of bad language near the start. Mostly because Don Raphael is not a very decent person when he's pissed. I have more author's notes at the end of the chapter.

* * *

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter 8**

Don Raphael poured himself a generous tumbler of whiskey as soon as he was alone in his office. Many years ago, when his activities in Vegas' underworld came to the attention of other criminal leaders, he had agreed to the loose "friendship" that New York City had offered, simply because it was easier to go along than have them work against him. That didn't mean he had to like dealing with the same person who had all but forced him to move to Nevada in the first place! That bastard still called him "Peter" every time they talked, just to remind Don Raphael of his roots.

And now, this little shit they "suggested" he talk to, to assist if he could. This… Malfoy. Who the fuck was this arrogant little son of a bitch? Don Raphael controlled just about every criminal enterprise in the entire city of Vegas, and this rodent treated him like dirt, like mud. Oh, he was polite, but hardly civil. Being the leader of the underworld of a city like Vegas was hardly an isolated position. Don Raphael had many contacts throughout the world, but had never heard of anyone named Malfoy.

Oh! But the opportunity he provided! Don Raphael had been waiting a long time to hurt Potter, and, little shit that he was, Malfoy provided the perfect opportunity. There were two problems. Don Raphael found distasteful the idea of backing any outsider against one of Vegas' elite, even it was Potter. He would rather take Potter down himself. And he really had a hard time stomaching the little rodent he would have to deal with.

Besides, it was more than a little gratifying to subtly work against anyone who New York City liked. And, he admitted to himself, Vegas sticks together against outsiders, especially ones not likely to ever come back to their city. His mind made up, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed…

Less than a minute later, he set the phone down on the desk. Standing up, he drained the rest of his whiskey and threw the glass against the wall as hard as he could, taking some small satisfaction in the noise it produced as it shattered.

_That FUCK! _

_That son of a bitch hung up on me! On ME! He hung on Don Raphael, and I was trying to help that little bastard! Who the fuck does he think he is to hang up on the Don like that?!_

Don Raphael was letting the fury rage inside him, almost enjoying the anger as it built up. One of his bodyguards peeked into the room at the sound of the glass breaking, but quickly ducked back outside at the look on his boss' face. Don Raphael didn't even notice as he paced around the room, raging at that little fuck, who had really pissed him off this time.

_Who the fuck was he to be so rude? What the fuck had he been doing that was so important that he hung up before I could even speak?! Wait…_

The Don examined that last question. What had he been… doing? _What indeed?_ He thought with a chuckle. His anger vanishing, almost forgotten, he settled down to wait for a return call, and to imagine what he might have caught Potter in the middle of doing…

* * *

Harry Potter had an excellent poker face, which stemmed in part from his Occlumency training. The self taught kind during his year hunting Horcruxes, not the disastrous faux lessons that traitor, Snape inflicted on him his fifth year. Learning to block his thoughts and emotions from a psychotic Dark Lord made learning to keep a straight face when holding a straight flush seem like child's play. While he used Occlumency disciplines, originally designed to keep his mind closed, to help keep a mask over his features, he would never use minor Legilimancy powers, ones he seemed to have picked up from Voldemort, during a poker game. It would be cheating.

So would using it tonight, however much he had been tempted. He had three reasons to not try. While Occlumency was a passive, neutral discipline of magic, Legilimancy was too close to the Dark Arts in his mind. It was an invasion of privacy, worse than peeking over a fence, or peeping through windows, this was an incursion on a person's mind; their thoughts, their feelings, everything that made a person unique.

Second, even if he had no moral reservations against Legilimancy, Hermione was also an Occlumens. She learned at the same time as Harry, in order to help tutor him in some of the exercises. They even managed to teach Ron the basics. So Harry knew that once you learned Occlumency, you could always feel a Legilimens attempt to penetrate your mind. He was pretty sure Hermione would be pissed if she felt him trying to penetrate her… anything!

And third, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out what she really felt, not until he worked out what he was feeling. Harry once had a glimpse of her beauty that would blossom during the Yule Ball his fourth year, and promptly ignored it, in favor of his crush at the time, Cho Chang. Besides, Hermione was his best friend, and she belonged with his other best friend. He knew it, Dean and Seamus knew it. Neville, Parvati, Ginny. Hell, the whole Gryffindor tower knew, except, for the longest time, Hermione and Ron themselves. Harry had heard rumors of, but never joined, a pool that was betting on the exact date the two would be caught snogging in a wardrobe. Harry had never thought of her as more than a friend. Not until tonight.

Tonight, when she walked into the high roller's lounge, tired, travel stained, dirty, exhausted… gorgeous. Tonight, when she ran into his arms, pressing every inch of her body against his, him feeling every inch distinctly. Tonight, when she walked out of her room, in the same clothes, looking completely different, fresh, clean, vibrant.

When she walked out of the room, two memories started to force their way to the front of his mind. Fourth year, Hermione in her Yule Ball dress, the first time Harry had seen the hints of her future beauty. At the time, he admired her the way a brother is proud of his sister, but he made up for his relative lack of notice tonight, examining every inch of that memory. Watching her face light up with a smile, her cheeks flushed from dancing. It was the second most beautiful sight he had of her, before tonight. The other memory, the most beautiful memory… _not right now!

* * *

_

One of the Occlumantic disciplines was what Hermione jokingly called the "Purple Elephant" discipline. It dealt with the subtle distinction between "forgetting" and "not remembering" a memory.

A sufficiently skilled Legilimens could fish through a person's mind while using verbal bait to force their subconscious to recall a memory. If he wanted to know what his victim was doing at Christmas time two years ago, he could throw out key words, such as  
"Christmas," "years," or "two," designed to dredge the memory up, even if the consciousness wasn't able to remember.

_Nobody truly forgets anything_ was the main premise of the Purple Elephant discipline. Not only do you have to remember a memory to protect it, you had to "not remember" they memory. You had to force it into the back of your mind, safe from the verbal clues that would normally draw the memory out.

"_Don't think of a Purple Elephant," _Hermione had said, then went on to explain how the exercises in the Occlumency text were similar to the famous thought paradox. Mainstream philosophy contended that the mind was unable to refrain from thinking of a Purple Elephant the second you were told. Mainstream philosophy never found out that it was possible to keep from thinking of a Purple Elephant when you were told, but it was only possible with magic.

This discipline had helped Harry when he was cornered by Snape once, who was trying to find out why Harry and his friends weren't directly battling the Dark Lord's forces. Some of the taunts Harry knew were designed to test for his possible knowledge or suspicion of Voldemort's secret to immortality, his Horcruxes.

Harry had never been able to keep Snape out of his mind, but he was able to use this discipline to keep from remembering anything about his treasure hunt in the part of his mind Snape could access.

Not a word of his Horcruxes being destroyed reached Voldemort until it was too late.

* * *

This was the same technique Harry used to forced the second memory to the back of his mind, unremembered for now. He had enough to deal with to be thinking about that now.

_You're just having a normal reaction to a very attractive woman, _he thought, a_n attractive woman who just happens to be one of your best friends. It doesn't matter if you haven't seen her for nine years, she'd kill you for thinking like this. Besides, she's Ron's girl._

She wasn't Ron's girl.

That shocked Harry more than he thought possible. Ron and Hermione not together seemed… wrong, somehow. Not the natural order of things. He knew they loved each other, he had seen enough evidence during the year all three had spent together hunting the Horcruxes. But to hear they broke up over something so… stupid! How could Ron have been such a jackass? He was tempted to Apparate both of them straight to England, smack Ron upside the head a few times and throw them in a closet to work it out, but Ron was married. To Lavender Brown. Won-won and Lavender, together again.

He started to notice that she seemed to be flirting with him, had been all during dinner, so subtle he wondered if he wasn't imagining it. She certainly wasn't like the American girls Texas always tried to hook him up with, so straightforward, sometimes coming out and just asking him if he wanted to jump into bed. She seemed to lose her subtlety after dinner, though, scooting closer for each refill.

But she had always been a little free with her displays of affections, even between friends. During their last year, she always had a hug and a peck on the cheek if they had been separated for any amount of time. On those rare evenings the three had a chance to rest, they would be in the library of the Black House, reading something specifically unrelated to their task. Ron usually had a book on Quidditch. Harry was addicted to muggle fantasy novels, enjoying the way those authors imagined magic, so very different from reality most of the time. Hermione, reading just about anything, would usually end up sprawled across their laps on a big sofa. They were comfortable together.

There was no awkwardness the time Hermione had held Harry for an hour when he cried after visiting his parents' graves. It was something friends do if needed.

So why the hell was he feeling so damn awkward now? This was probably just the same thing. He had inadvertently forced her to relive some bad memories of Ron; maybe she just needed a shoulder to cry on. Maybe she was using the wine as an excuse to be held.

Yeah, and maybe Voldemort would burst into his suite wearing a pink tutu, tap dancing to the tune of Viva Las Vegas.

Then she asked the question he'd been waiting for all night, dreading all night. It was one thing to reveal the method of his escape. It was in the past. Done. Over. It was another thing to deal with the present, why he hadn't come back, why she had to find him. He would have to admit he was scared of facing his friend. The-Boy-Who-Lived, scared of his own friends…

* * *

Harry Potter walked onto the front lawn at Hogwarts, his head held high and threw five objects on the ground in front of Voldemort and his Death Eaters: the hole-riddled diary, the cracked ring, the two halves of Hufflepuff's cup, the opened locket, and Nagini's mangled corpse. He saw the look of fury in the Dark Lord's eyes. He acknowledged the feeling of triumph that burst from Voldemort as he believed Harry hadn't found the last Horcrux. The most secret, most secure Horcrux. The last Horcrux that Harry took from behind his back and threw on the ground, burnt and tarnished, a huge crack running threw the middle of Tom Riddle's Special Award for Services to the School. He felt the shockwave of fear emanate from Voldemort as the Heir of Slytherin gathered all his power… and broke through the Anti-Apparition wards, leaving his Death Eaters behind.

Harry never hesitated as he, Hermione and Ron chased the Death Eaters to the edge of the boundaries, watching them Apparate away, following the traces of magic to the Riddle Manor. He felt no fear during the fierce battle, or the final duel when he finally managed to overcome Voldemort.

* * *

So why was he so afraid of answering this question? Of admitting he'd been afraid of his two best friends? The friends that were at his side the whole mêlée until a spell from the Dark Lord sealed the two nemeses away for the final battle? He knew his friends wouldn't hate him, knew they would understand, would forgive him, no matter what. Yet he used that excuse for seven years. Hermione said it herself; they would never hate him. Her words destroyed the last threads of his illusion.

And she was looking at him differently, so much more than she ever had. Her eyes were brown fire, molten chocolate. He had to know for sure. Hoping she wouldn't catch him, knowing he would never forgive himself, he sent out the lightest tendril of Legilimency.

… _lease just fucking kiss me?!_

She wanted it too! Harry didn't care if it was lust or love, if it was a one-night stand or happily ever after. Whatever it was, they could work it out. They had been through too much together to let tonight come between them. Finally, Harry was ready to let go of his uncertainties and kiss her.

"BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP"

His cell phone. In the quiet apartment, it sounded like the tone was emanating from surround sound speakers, not a five inch by half an inch piece of fucking plastic.

"BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP"

They jumped apart, startled out of the little universe they had been about to create. Why had he never decided on a ringtone besides that annoying beep? Some sort of song that would have helped the moment. Something romantic, something that didn't sound like a mutated air raid siren?!

"BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BE…"

Harry wasn't even aware he had left the loveseat until he was at the table by the front door, where he always put his phone on when he walked in. He didn't even have to look at the screen to know he was going to kill Texas for the interruption. He pressed the talk button.

"I'll call you back later," and hung up. He dropped the phone, not caring where it landed, wondering if there was any way to salvage the evening, knowing there wasn't.

He didn't see Hermione at the loveseat.

_Where'd she go? _He thought frantically. Nobody could have found him that fast (_she did_) or kidnap her in the few seconds his back was turned (_portkeys, genius_)! He rushed over to the couch and almost died from relief.

Hermione, who had been fighting jet lag, exhaustion and the effects of the wine all night, had fallen asleep. She was curled up just right to be invisible from the door, causing Harry's panic.

He couldn't just let her sleep there tonight. He picked her up and she unconsciously curled up tighter, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt so right in his arms; he could have carried her back to England. Walking.

He only carried her to her room, pulling back the sheets and laying her on the bed. He was taking off her shoes when…

"Harry? I'm sorry. About tonight." She slurred the last word and was asleep again before Harry could respond. He responded anyways.

"So am I, 'Mione. So am I," he whispered. He brushed her hair out of her face and, on impulse, leaned over and placed a light kiss on her forehead.

* * *

Walking out to the sitting room, Harry was furious. Conveniently ignoring the fact that, not two hours ago, he was insisting the Hermione was just a friend, Harry decided he was going to kill Texas. How dare he unwittingly interrupt the moment, ruin the evening? He stalked over to his phone, jamming on the button to bring up his recent calls and saw…

_What the hell?_ The last caller wasn't Texas. Harry had hung up on… _Damn it, _he thought. _It's hard enough dealing with him when we're polite to each other. _He was sure Texas had gone to Don Raphael for his supplies, and Harry had probably just made his job a lot harder, if not impossible. With a sigh, he started the call, wondering how difficult this conversation was going to be.

Ten minutes later, he hung up, surprised at how easy the call went. Don Raphael actually apologized for the interruption, sounding very close to breaking out in laughter. He actually thought he had caught Harry and Hermione in the middle of… _It doesn't matter,_ he thought. _If it keeps the Don in a good mood, he can think his phone call had interrupted an orgy for all I care._ Then came the real News.

Malfoy.

He had expected it. Everyone knew Harry killed Lucius during the fight. Draco had tried to get Harry jailed, claiming that his father was once again under the Imperious when he was killed. Fortunately, the courts hadn't believed it, and ruled that even under the Imperious, the Malfoy Patriarch had presented a clear and credible threat; that Harry was within his rights to defend himself. Harry still had sweated buckets during the inquiry. Having experienced the wizarding justice system first hand, he had no faith in said system. The thought of going to trial and what would happen in the courtroom had given him nightmares for weeks.

He had expected Malfoy to keep tabs on his friends. He was a little surprised that Draco had kept it up for nine years, but honestly, most of what Harry had planned was for dealing with the Ferret anyways. It just helped immensely that he had gone to Don Raphael for information on Harry. _Providing the Don doesn't double-cross me._

The Don was surprised at what Harry had asked of him, but promised to cooperate, in exchange for the full story when it was all over. Harry lied easily, doubting he would still be in Vegas when it was all over, and deciding he had plenty of time to figure out a story if the reckoning ever came. All he had to do now was wait for Texas to drop the package off.

* * *

The rays of sunlight assaulting her eyelids were what finally woke Hermione up. She felt weird this morning, probably from an extra vivid dream last night. She often dreamed of finding Harry and talking enough sense into him to make him come home, but last night's dream was the first with a romantic tilt of any sort. And Harry hiding in Las Vegas? What had she eaten last night to cause that combination? _A steak and… and wine?_ She had a small headache that usually came from drinking alcohol the night before and the sunlight was feeling a little rougher on her eyes this morn…

_Sunlight… in my eyes… in the morning?_ The window in Hermione's bedroom faced west. She woke fully, realizing she was in a huge bed, much bigger than hers, fully dressed, and the room was like her… dream? Had she really found Harry? After nine years? Then she saw the covered tray on the table next to her bed, with a folded note resting on top. She picked it up and read…

_Hermione,_

_I wanted to get my workout done before you woke up, but you're probably going to be contrary and wake up while I'm gone. That's why I ordered you some breakfast, as well as a few aspirin in case you have the same headache I had this morning. I figured since you're on vacation, you can enjoy it. We need to get you some proper vacation clothes, though, maybe one of those blindingly bright Hawaiian shirts we've seen muggle tourists wear while in London? So I feel like taking you shopping when you're ready, after lunch or breakfast._

_Harry._

Harry ordered breakfast for her? She knew he meant well, but groaned as she lifted the cover. The groan cut off in the middle as she stared at the contents of her tray. She just couldn't believe what she saw…

* * *

Hermione Granger has always been a little Obsessive-Compulsive. It was a minor case, really. No washing her hands multiple times in scalding water, no jumping over every crack on the sidewalk. Small things, like keeping her room immaculately clean, like making sure her homework was done right away.

She also ate the same breakfast every day. It was the one thing about her…condition that made her feel different, not just a neat freak. She knew some people would have no problem switching their morning foods around, but she just felt the consistency was the best way to start the day.

She did her best to act normal, even once she got to Hogwarts, where her definition of "normal" underwent a major alteration. So, while her area of the dorm was always clean, she said as little as she could let herself get away with to Parvati and Lavender, and she always tried to ignore the small messes and scold them for the big messes. She knew she nagged her friends about their homework, but she honestly tried to keep it subdued. She never made a big deal about her breakfast, hoping no one would notice she ate the same thing every day.

Though she changed the order of her food, sometimes, with reluctance, she always ate two hard boiled eggs, two links of sausage, a buttered English muffin with strawberry jam, and a large glass of orange juice. Ron had made her breakfast in bed once, and it was horrible, pancakes, scrambled eggs… she tried her hardest, but was unable to force it down her throat. She faked a bit of a flu, and managed not to hurt his feelings, but she felt so bad she couldn't appreciate his efforts. Her obsessive-compulsive condition was one of the few secrets she had managed to keep from everyone.

* * *

But Harry had ordered breakfast, and sitting on her tray were two hard boiled eggs, two sausage links, an English muffin with butter and strawberry jam on the side, and a large glass of orange juice. The only additions were the two aspirin his letter mentioned. She swallowed the aspirin, half wondering if this really was a dream, if she was still dreaming.

Nope, that pinch promised she was awake.

_Damn him!_ She suddenly thought. Why did he have to be so confusing? First he was so sweet during dinner, and he cuddled with her on the couch. But as soon as the phone rang he jumped up, as if eager to escape! Then he orders breakfast. Not just any breakfast, but her breakfast. He was deliberately trying to throw her off balance!

She needed to sort her feelings out soon before she said or did something she would regret, one way or another. Was it actually love, like she had begun to think last night? Was it just lust? Loneliness? She had been lonely since she broke up with Ron. She didn't want to deal with a wizard; they would expect the same from her that Ron did, and she wasn't going to quit her job. She didn't want to deal with muggles, whom she had always felt so different from even before she learned about her magic. Was she just latching on to possibly the only person in her world who would understand her? Agree with her?

Was that such a bad thing? Didn't love need similar beliefs, interests, compatibility? If he was the only person who could understand her, did that not make a good match? A perfect match, even?

Could she handle a short relationship with Harry? She didn't think so. She didn't think she could handle being alone again, not after another failed romance with one of her best friends. But as much as she loved her job, she needed more. She needed a partner, an equal. Someone to share her life with, to have him share his life. Her joy, her pain, her successes, her failures, she wanted someone to share all these with. What Harry that person? That was the question she mulled over in her mind as she ate her breakfast.

* * *

Hermione finished the last bite of her breakfast when she heard the front door open. A few seconds later, she heard a light tap on her door, and Harry peeked in. He smiled when he saw she was already awake and done with her breakfast.

"I knew you would be difficult," he said, walking the rest of the way into her room. "You had to have woken up right after I left to have finished already."

"I just woke up about ten minutes ago. I was still a little hungry." Back to awkward small talk again? She wanted to ask how he knew about her breakfast, didn't really want to know. Maybe it would be better for them to take any relationship slow, but right now, she wouldn't have minded him jumping into bed, even if that wasn't part of her normal morning routine. Harry looked a little uncomfortable as well, unsure of what to say.

"I, uh, the hotel actually, well, they had the idea to, uh, for me to take you shopping. For new clothes."

"I got the note and it sounds like fun. Just give me a half hour to get ready?"

"Well, I had thought you would sleep in a little later. You know, from the jet lag. But if you're ready now…" Harry sprouted a grin that, if Hermione remembered anything about him, promised trouble. "Yeah, I've got to shower and change, too. Half an hour then?"

"Harry," she said nervously, "what are you planning?"

His grin just grew wider. "Twenty-nine minutes, 'Mione.' He said, walking out of the room before she could protest.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Harry just picked up the phone when Hermione walked out.

"Yes, the shopping trip you suggested last night? Cancel that. We'll be headed to L.A." Harry listened, shook his head and said, "No, I won't need a limo. That's right." He really enjoyed her surprised gasp when he said, "Yes, I feel like taking my Firebolt."

* * *

A/N: First off, the first draft of this chapter **does** have a song for a ringtone, a completely inappropiate song for the moment. I was proud of figuring out a good song. I'm going to upload the original chapter on the yahoo group soon.

Second, I believe that I am a little obsessive-compulsive myself. Yes, some of the "problems" I described are from that movie "As Good As It Gets," a movie that I really like. Most of my "disorder" deals with how I walk, sort of the "stepping on the crack" deal that Jack Nicholson had. I don't eat the same breakfast, and I'm definately not a neat freak, but there are certain things I try to do exactly the same each time.

I like the Purple Elephant thought paradox, it's as much fun as typing "Don't read this sentence."

I'm guessing on the Horcruxes, but if there was a pool, that's where I'd throw my bet. I'm guessing that Voldemort was unable to find anything by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw that he could corrupt, so he used his Award. That's why Rowling was referring to the Trophy Room all the way in the first book and the specific award in the second book.

Nanio-713: I know about too much backstory, but there are some things I have to reference to later, I hope it stops and gets more present-oriented in the next chapter.

Meteoricshipyards: I guess the Hedwig thing might have been pretty obvious. I'm surprised Harry and Hermione didn't figure it out. I actually stole the idea of a huge owl communication from my sister's story, "Beast Lord" on this website by CeresK.

Aquila.I am the water bird. I hope you don't AK me, my next update might be a bit with my getting ready to redeploy, join my yahoo group, I'll be post status updates as often as I can.

wyadra: thank you for your criticism, however, in my take on JKR's universe, I believe that Hermione had never been in love with Harry because she was always with Ron before Harry disappeared. They were best friends, and that can be a good start to a romance, but she had never really thought of anything like that with Harry, even as lonely as she's been these past 5 years. This chapter was hopefully a little more insight into their psychologies during my story.

Everyone else who reviewed, thank you. I'm betting that the amount of hits, reviews and alert lists is probably normal for a story, but I'm still a little surprised to see so many people reading the story and wanting updates so early into the story. That's why I started the yahoo group. You'll get two emails when you join, one is a chapter update status, and the other is a long essay I typed up which lists some rules and expectations of my group. It's going to be an adult group because I'm an adult, so don't come complaining to me about language, or I'll let Don Raphael answer.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: If you join my Yahoo group, you'll get updates once or twice a week on the current status of my writing. The name of the group is royalflushbylansydyr. It's an adult group, so be of age. I don't want to get in trouble. More notes after the chapter.

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter Nine**

She was going to kill him. _That,_ Hermione decided, _was a promise. _She didn't care that she was ready to kiss him last night; Harry Potter was going to die.

With her eyes closed, she had no visual distractions from her imagination's theatre of death for Harry. If only so many of the fantasies didn't involve leather… Or a last minute reprieve. It was difficult to stay angry when her thoughts kept traveling down that avenue.

She let out a whimper that was matched by Harry's laugh as a buzzing sound by her right ear indicated they had just brushed by certain death once again. She hated flying, but she had never imagined anything worse, not until today. Another buzzing sound, this time to the left, sounding if possible, even closer than the last one. Harry's body shook with laughter as she tightened her grip around him. Harry's body…

_Hmm… _she thought, _maybe this isn't so bad._ If she closed her eyes and ignored the noise, and the nausea-inducing speed, she could pretend she was just snuggling with Harry. Yeah, all she had to do was concentrate on the feel of Harry's back pressed against her, the feel of suede on her palms… the fantasies running through her mind that had increasingly less to do with Harry's impending execution…

* * *

"Yes, I feel like taking my Firebolt." Harry listened, nodded to himself, "Ok, we'll be down in about five minutes." He hung up the phone and turned to face Hermione's horrified countenance. 

"Harry! You want to fly to Los Angeles on your broom? And you told a muggle about it?"

"Hmm… you're right. That does sound like it would be a bad idea. We'd better get you a jacket."

She could only stare in shock at Harry's nonchalance as he walked to a closet near the door and pulled out a tan suede jacket. He shrugged his arms into the jacket as he searched through the closet.

"Here we go," he said. He pulled out a blue denim jacket and tossed it to Hermione, who barely had the presence of mind to catch it. "That might be a little big, but it's the smallest I have. It should protect you just fine."

Hermione stared at the article of clothing resting in her hands, unable to form a coherent thought. Sighing, Harry walked over and started helping her into the jacket.

"'Mione, don't you trust me?"

"Yes, and every time you get that grin on your face, I always end up regretting it," she said, letting a laughing Harry playfully push her out the door.

* * *

He almost didn't notice Potter when he first saw him stepping out of the elevator. If not for the Mudblood by his side, Draco might not have recognized the man walking toward the exit as Potter at all. 

Automatically, he checked his glamour spell in the polished chrome of one of the slot machines. If he had known Vegas' abundant electricity would sometimes interfere with illusion charms, he would have brought a couple flasks of Polyjuice potion. His hair, instead of the shining silver blond that was the pride of the Malfoy family, was a common dirty blond, almost the color of straw. He nose was less aristocratic, more stubby.

The magic seemed to be holding, so he stood up from the machine he was feeding quarters into and followed the duo to the doors. He didn't even notice the grey-haired old lady who sat down at the machine he just vacated and promptly win fifty dollars.

* * *

Hermione stared at the thing Harry was mounting like a broomstick. "What is that?" 

"This," Harry said, "is a 2004 Buell Firebolt XB12R. A motorcycle."

"That's your Firebolt?' Hermione would have laughed with relief except that Harry seemed to be expecting her to actually climb on behind him. He was holding a plain white helmet for her. She couldn't leave him with his arms just hanging, so she took the helmet, unsure of how to put it on.

Seeing her dilemma, Harry stood back up and started to help. When he pulled her hair back, he was standing close enough that she almost forgot to breathe. She almost expected a kiss, but he helped settle the helmet on her hear, stepped back, and fiddled with a strap under her chin a little.

"Move your head around some." Harry looked satisfied when she followed his instructions. "Does anything pinch at all? Anything on the helmet feel too tight?"

"I think so. It feels ok. Harry, are you sure about this?"

"Of course," he laughed, remounting the motorcycle. He grabbed his own helmet, which was painted to match the bike: red with little yellow flames that looked as if they were originating from the bottom, being blown back to the rear by the wind. The thing looked fast, and Hermione never liked fast. "I've ridden this thing hundreds of times without falling!"

"But how many times have you ridden with falling?" she muttered as she reluctantly climbed on behind him.

"Wrap your arms around me. You need to hold on tight."

As Hermione complied, she realized that the motorcycle was a wonderful idea! The softness of the suede leather was a delightful sensory contrast to the hardness of the muscles on his chest, and Hermione might have taken a few more seconds than necessary rubbing her hands around as she scooted up close behind him.

His voice was full of amusement when he asked, "Are you all settled?" But there was something else in his voice as well, a huskiness that told her her caresses affected him. _Maybe I do have a chance with him, still _she though. _He can't have been that close to kissing me last night and not feel a thing. He's probably wondering if it was a mistake, though._

And now, despite the fantasies she couldn't seem to control, she was beginning to worry. Oh, Harry had seemed fine while they were in the city, but once she saw a sign that said, "Leaving Las Vegas," he had scared the hell out of her.

He seemed to ignore certain laws: traffic laws, laws of courtesy, the laws of physics… She was pretty sure the needle of the speedometer had not dropped below the 120 mark once. She had tried to open her eyes, just once, unluckily seeing Harry speeding between the middle of two humongous 18-wheelers. She squeezed as tight as she could, and didn't dare open her eyes again.

* * *

Riding a motorcycle was very similar to riding a broom, only in two dimensions instead of three. Harry was a natural. Three years ago, when Texas had tried to convince Harry to buy a flashy sports car, he had grudgingly went along. Harry had never been interested in driving, it looked too boring compared to the fun he once had flying a broom. If he had bought a car, it was more than likely just going to sit in the Bellagio's garage. 

He was dutifully looking at some cars at the Porsche dealership when his eye caught an advertisement painted on an 18-wheeler stopped at the light. He was astonished to see something advertised as a "Firebolt," but he didn't think he had ever seen a more beautiful muggle machine. He pointed the truck out to Texas as it drove away.

"A motorcycle man, huh? Now wonder you're so damn bored right now."

Harry couldn't really tell Texas about his broom with the same name, so he just nodded. Texas had wanted to check out some different styles, but Harry was adamant. It would be the Firebolt or nothing. The dealer was reluctant to sell a first-time user a 1203-cc engine, but Harry took the safety class and, without prior experience with a car, he picked up the normally confusing controls easily.

A sports bike would be less comfortable than a cruiser for most people, but Harry contacted Gringotts and had them install comfort charms and, after a little deliberation, some charms designed to keep the bike unnoticed by the police. Except for the Wronski Feint, Harry could perform just about all his favorite moves from his broomstick. He took to taking a few weeks off once in awhile, just to go riding for days at a time, to clear his head. Anytime he needed to visit the magical community, usually Gringotts, he would take his bike to the closest one, in Los Angeles.

He had expected Hermione to be frightened riding behind him, but from the way she was clutching him, grinding against his back, Harry began to wonder if she was enjoying herself. Then he heard her scream as he squeezed between the two 18-wheelers. _Nope, she's scared._ Harry hoped she would forgive him, but he had really needed to take the bike out, clear his head… try to sort out his feelings for Hermione… not that the idea was working at all with the distractions caused by her caresses…

Hermione was enjoying the ride, despite her fears, mainly because she was focusing on the feel of Harry. Still, she whimpered every time a buzzing sound in her ear notified her of another vehicle Harry passed with inches to spare. The drive took way too long, and it was over all too soon. Her legs were a little shaky, but she realized she wasn't sore at all. Harry helped take her helmet off.

"That was an… interesting experience," she said when her head was free.

"Hah! You hated it," Harry retorted, pulling his own helmet off.

"No!" She protested, while thinking _yes_. Harry seemed a little dismayed to just be making a joke. "It was… unnerving, but I'm ok. I promise," she lied.

"Well, I figured it was the heights you didn't like about brooms. I didn't know that speed was a problem also. That's my favorite part."

"Well, it was the first time I had traveled over 150 miles an hour."

"Not," Harry said with a cheeky grin, "if you count Apparition."

Hermione laughed. "I wasn't counting that. Shut up!"

Harry looked like he was about to say something but just closed his mouth and raised his eyebrows at her. He looked like he was about to burst out laughing; Hermione just had to ask, "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Harry replied. "I just remember the last time I didn't listen when you told me to shut up."

Hermione laughed, but unconsciously rubbed her palm against her pants, remembering the feel of his lips on her hand. _Is he flirting with me, _she wondered, _or just making a joke_? She hated feeling so awkward around Harry. _Just how did two best friends who once thought of each other as the brother or sister they never had go about falling in love? _She didn't know Harry was asking himself the same question. She decided to change the subject.

"So where are we? I mean, I know we're in Los Angeles, but why did we stop here?"

"I always stop here when I come to LA," Harry said pointing to the store in front of them. "It's a little health food shop that makes great smoothies. And the owner doesn't mind my storing the helmet and jacket in his office while I'm down here. C'mon."

They walked into a chorus of welcomes. Most were directed at Harry by name, but Hermione heard a muttered chorus of whispers.

"Bob's in the back," one of the female cashiers said, waving Harry behind the counter. Harry grabbed Hermione's helmet and jacket and walked back, nodding a few greetings to the store personnel, most of whom were women. Hermione almost felt jealous, but the feeling was shattered by the female cashier's almost predatory stare. She waved Hermione over.

"Ok, I've worked here, like, 3 years and I've never seen Harry, like, bring a chick with him. I knew he was much too yummy to not have, like all sorts of girlfriends, so why are you, like, the first one he's brought here?"

It took Hermione a second to translate from Californian to proper English, but she blushed when she realized that as far as this place knew, she was the first woman to ride on Harry's motorcycle. _But what about the second helmet? It's probably the Hotel's _she answered herself, _since it was so plain compared to Harry's._

The girl, "Cindy," her nametag proclaimed, was waiting for her answer, but Hermione just shrugged. "This is the first time I've seen Harry in nine years. We're old friends, from school."

"Old friends, huh? Nothing more?" Cindy's smile turned into a sly grin when Hermione blushed in response. Harry walked out of the back, saw Hermione's red face and turned to Cindy.

"Just what are you saying to Hermione to make her blush like that?"

"Here are your smoothies," Cindy said, cheerfully ignoring his question. "Two

RSB2-E's, your favorite."

Sighing, Harry grabbed the cups, handing one to Hermione. "I don't suppose you'd tell me if I asked?"

Hermione shook her head with an embarrassed grin as she took a sip. "Mmm… This is good. What does 'RSB2-E' stand for?"

"Raspberry, Strawberry, Blueberry, and Banana, with Energy."

"Well, it tastes great. Ready to go?"

"Of course," Harry said. "Let's start the shopping spree."

"Shopping Spree?" The question in Cindy's voice made them turn around. "If you're going shopping here, how are you, like, going to carry your bags back to Vegas on your bike?"

Harry's jaw dropped.

Hermione couldn't understand why Harry was so worried. She hadn't considered it before, but couldn't they just shrink… _No, Harry doesn't use magic and it would look weird anyways if I suddenly had all sorts of new clothes without bringing any packages back._ She could now see Harry's problem, plus she just remembered she had left her wand back in the hotel room. What were they going to do about it?

"I didn't think about that," Harry admitted.

Cindy giggled. "You just wanted to get your girlfriend on your bike, huh?"

"No! I mean, she's…" Harry didn't want to protest that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend. He liked the idea. But he was afraid she would be angry if he presumed too much. Hermione came to his rescue, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the door.

"We'll think of something, Cindy," she said over her shoulder. "It was nice meeting you."

* * *

Harry couldn't think of anything to say as they walked outside. He was embarrassed, not only because he had completely forgotten about needing to carry shopping bags, but also that his attraction was so obvious that Cindy was teasing him about it. He missed the fact that Hermione was as equally attracted, and just as obvious to other people. Cindy wouldn't have teased him in front of her if the attraction was only one-sided. He also missed the fact that Hermione hadn't let go of his arm, nor did she seem inclined to. 

Hermione was embarrassed as well, but equally happy. From what Cindy had told her, it was obvious that Harry liked her. She wondered if he had just been too distracted to think clearly about the incompatibility of his motorcycle and a shopping trip. Maybe now that someone pointed out their mutual attraction, they could stop dancing around each other's doubts.

"Shouldn't you ask me before you go around telling people that I'm your girlfriend?"

"I never…"

"Because I would say yes," she interrupted, cutting off his protest. Saying that had taken all her courage, but it was worth it to see the look of amazement on his face, mingled with hope and interest.

* * *

Hermione found the ride back to Las Vegas much more enjoyable. Perhaps it was the euphoria from the two of them finally acknowledging their emotions. Maybe it was the afternoon they had spent together finding all sorts of new clothes for her. Harry had even been convinced to buy something for himself. They managed to find a store that sold a large selection of Hawaiian shirts, and each bought the brightest, loudest one they could find, which they were now wearing under their jackets. 

Harry had managed to find a solution to the transportation problem. A courier service was hired to take all the packages from LA to the hotel. After the driver left, Harry suggested they walk around, to give him a head start…

* * *

"Why haven't you asked about her, yet?" There was no need to pretend he didn't know who Hermione was talking about. 

"I guess I haven't really wanted to. I figured since I started having feelings for you, asking about Ginny would seem… tacky, as if it would make you think I still had feelings for her."

"So you don't?" she asked.

"Of course not!" _Maybe that was too forceful, _he thought. "I mean, I missed her, like I missed all my friends, but I missed you and Ron as best friends more than I missed Ginny as a girlfriend. I figure it was just a school romance if that was all I felt."

Harry fell silent, staring across the park they had wandered through, wondering, as he sometimes had, how different his life would have been if he had stayed. _Would I have ended up with Ginny, or would we have eventually split up? Would I have talked some sense into Ron and eventually stood as best man at my two best friends' wedding? _

_Would I never have fallen in love with Hermione?_

That was the question. Would his feelings for Hermione stayed brotherly, platonic? Or would he have fallen for her anyways, ending up doing something stupid that would ruin the trio's friendship and Ron and Hermione's marriage? _Maybe everything is working out because I ran away, a little belatedly perhaps, but still…_

Hermione sensed his mood, all the "maybes" running through his mind, a few of them running through hers as well, and stayed silent, hugging him, giving him what little comfort she could.

"Is she happy?" Harry finally asked, breaking out of his reverie. It took Hermione a second to focus. She had simply been enjoying the feel of his arms around her. It had been so long since she had been hugged like this.

"She seems happy, now. She's with Colin."

"Colin Creevy? That's a relief." Harry sounded very amused.

"Why is that a relief?"

"Because," Harry explained, "I always thought he had a crush on me."

Hermione started laughing. "That's… not… funny…" she tried to protest between giggles.

"I'm serious!" Harry exclaimed, sounding anything but. "I always worried I would find him sneaking into my dorm at Hogwarts!"

"Harry!" she gasped, swatting his arm. They were laughing too hard for a minute for either of them to say anything. Hermione calmed down first.

"At least he and Ginny never tried to sneak into your bed at the same time."

Harry laughed, but he said, "Ginny never snuck into my dorm."

"Oh, I know of a time she tried," Hermione teased.

"Really?" One eyebrow rose up to his hairline. "Just when was this?" he asked.

"Our sixth year. I caught her and told her to get back to her dorm if she knew what was good for her."

"But how did you catch her?"

"Prefect Patrol, what do you think?" But Harry could a slight shift of her eyes that told his poker brain she was lying.

"C'mon, 'Mione. Eights years of poker lets me know when you're bluffing. What's the real story?"

Hermione blushed. "That night, I had decided to sneak in to see Ron, to admit my feelings," she admitted in a small voice.

Harry was shell-shocked. His face was frozen in amazement. Hermione tried to think of something to say. She couldn't. Then she noticed the corners of his mouth twitching. He was fighting to keep from laughing!

"It's not funny!" she protested. That, unfortunately, was what set Harry off. He sank to the ground, howling in laughter as Hermione tried to look indignant. She failed and soon, two people were sitting on the ground, laughing at the story. It took awhile for both of them to catch their breath…

* * *

Hermione was still smiling when Harry pulled into the hotel's parkway. The ride back wasn't the least bit scary, and Hermione was actually looking forward to the next time he would take her out on his Firebolt. 

Texas was waiting for them on the steps. He noticed two things: Harry was wearing a blindingly bright yellow and orange shirt with palm trees and surfboards; and that Hermione grabbed Harry's hand as soon as their helmets were off. Texas raised his eyebrows at Harry, his smirk asking the silent question. Harry shrugged, a slight smile as his answer. Hermione had the odd feeling that if Ron had been on those steps instead of Texas, the silent byplay would have been the exact same.

"Oh no!" she blurted out. "I almost forgot!" She rushed back to the motorcycle and lifted up the seat to pull out a small bag that included an outfit she hadn't let Harry see. She needed at least one he didn't know about so she could surprise him. So she ordered out of one store and made him promise not to come back for half an hour. The end result was a bit more daring than she was used to (_Ok, a lot more daring, _she admitted), but Harry would appreciate it. _He'd better!_ She thought.

"Texas needs to talk with me, real quick," Harry said when Hermione rejoined them. "Why don't you head on up without me, and I'll be there in a few minutes.

"All right," she shrugged. Not used to dealing with poker players, she didn't notice that almost imperceptible change in their faces, in their stance as he and Texas tried to hide their tension. After she walked inside, Texas turned to Harry.

"How long, do you think?"

"He'll jump at the opportunity when he sees her alone. He's always been too impatient."

"Are you even sure he's around?" Texas asked. "I've wandered the floor all day, and haven't once seen anyone matching your description."

"He's there," Harry said confidently. "Probably with some polyjuice or a glamour charm. Don Raphael gave him too much information on me for him not to be there. Now we just have to wait for him to take the bait."

"Well, the bugs are still tracking her." Texas held up a device that had a small LCD screen which showed a small flashing dot. Coordinates were changing constantly at the bottom of the screen. "When did you get the tracking devices on her?"

"This morning."

"And that didn't make her suspicious at all?"

"You think I told her? She didn't know they were tracking devices when she swallowed them. I just hope I'm right, that Draco makes his move soon, before they're out of her system."

* * *

Hermione didn't notice the red-haired man that followed her to the elevators. She had worked to ignore red hair for 5 years, so she paid no attention when he got off on the same floor and walked the opposite direction. She had just thrown her package on the bed when she heard the door open. 

"That didn't take long," she said, stepping out of her room to meet Harry. She stopped in mid-stride when she saw a stranger standing in the middle of the room. "Can… can I help you?"

"I should say so," the person said in a frighteningly familiar voice. Hermione was horrified when he pulled a wand out of his pocket. _And I left my wand on my dresser!_ Her wand was too far away now. Pointing it at her, he shook his head. The glamour fell off, the red hair lengthening, lightening from a dark red to a shiny silver blond. In less than a second, Draco Malfoy was back in his normal form.

"You can certainly help me, Mudblood. You're going to help me get revenge. Potter will pay for killing my father. _Stupefy!_"

Hermione cursed herself as she didn't move out of the way in time. The last thought that ran through her mind as she lost consciousness was,

_But Harry didn't…

* * *

_

A/N: This chapter took awhile for me to write. Not just because of real life stuff, I just felt awkward writing the chapter. I had a hard time conveying the reticence of Harry and Hermione trying to work out their feelings for each other. In the end, instead of trying any massive changes to what I originally wrote down, I decided just to make sure everything was spelled right. I made a few small changes that I think makes the story flow a little better, but if I ever go back and do my story better, right now, this chapter is the one I would fixtate most on.

A few more notes...

I had planned on making his "Firebolt" a sports car of some sort, but thanks to a review by "wana10" I found out about the Buell Firebolt. Even though I hadn't considered it before, I figured that a motorcycle would be more Harry's style than a sports car. So I have to thank wana10 for the inadvertant suggestion, and give credit where it's due.

So close, HazelWolf1111, but not quite. I do like the idea of a private jet, but Harry just doesn't travel enough to warrant that. Besides, I'm sure that if he ever gets up in the air, he would much rather be on a broom than inside a cabin.

eaglesnest: Hermione never felt the probe, the wine was messing with her mind a little, along with her fatigue. Plus, she was pretty much almost broadcasting her thoughts unintentionally, so Harry didn't have to dig deep to find that thought in her mind. Harry doesn't own any hotels, and he pretty much just lets Gringotts handle his money, he doesn't care too much about the details since he's winning enough with poker to not have to worry about his savings as much. And yes, 11 billion galleons seems like a lot of money, doesn't it?

One last note: I've already started on Chapter 10, and it's going much smoother than Chapter 9 went. I started yesterday when I didn't have time to access my computer to type up 9. I looked up 3 and a half pages later, surprised at how well I had gone through so far. In the chapter's defense, I've known what's going to be happening in this chapter for a long time. As you can guess from this chapter, Harry gets to meet Draco. You'll enjoy their "reunion"


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I put a direct link to my yahoo group on my profile as my homepage. Some people had asked. I didn't mean to type out the chapter until tomorrow, but I just couldn't wait. So far, this is my favorite chapter, and I wrote it so much easier than Chapter Nine. I wrote out nine whole pages just today at work. I was planning on typing it up tomorrow, but I just couldn't wait. Hope you enjoy. More A/N after the chapter.

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter Ten**

"Hermione! Watch out!" Ron didn't give his girlfriend any time to heed his warning as he crashed into her, tackling her to the ground just before an ugly beam of green light flashed over their heads. He immediately rolled off of her as she rolled in the opposite direction just before a bludgeoning curse slammed into the ground where they had fallen.

Rolling to his knees, Ron pointed his wand, yelling "Diffindo!" The cutting curse missed the Death Eater, but hit the tip of his wand. Cursing, the Death eater threw the now-useless piece of wood away and rushed at Ron, who was too out of position to cast another spell.

"Stupefy!" Hermione's spell caught the masked man in the chest and he fell the ground bonelessly. Harry rushed up to them, his duel finished, his Death Eater on the ground, not moving.

"Are you guys alright?" He saw that both of them were in good condition and looked to the Riddle Manor. "Voldemort's in the house. I have to get to him."

"We're going with you," Hermione said.

"You've done enough," Harry protested. "This is my fight."

"There could still be more Death Eaters," Ron argued. "You need us to watch your back inside."

Neither of his friends looked likely to budge, so Harry gave in. The trio walked up to the front door, wands at the ready, when the door opened. Lucius Malfoy stepped out, unmasked, openly declaring his allegiance to the Dark Lord.

"None of you brats are getting any farther," he drawled.

"I need to get inside before Voldemort can escape again," Harry whispered. "Can you two distract him long enough?"

They both nodded and all three spread out to encircle their enemy. Lucius was a much better dueler than they had encountered before. Quick as lightning, three curses sped at the trio, who barely managed to dodge. Malfoy didn't even move as he deflected their three spells.

"I need him off the doorstep!" Harry yelled. Hermione suddenly had an idea. _I hope this works, _she thought. She raised her wand and yelled, "Accio Malfoy!"

The look on the Malfoy patriarch's face was one of pure astonishment as the spell grabbed him, propelling him towards Hermione. Her face mirrored her victim's as she realized she hadn't exactly thought her plan through completely. She yelped as she dived to one side, Lucius narrowly missing her as he flew to the ground ten meters away. He scrambled to his feet, his face a rictus of fury.

"You'll pay for that, Mudblood!"

The distraction worked. With Malfoy's attention focused on Hermione, Harry rushed up the steps into the house. The door slammed shut behind him and a blast of air knocked the three remaining combatants to the ground. When they got to their feet, a shimmering gray shield had materialized, cutting the Manor from view.

"Potter is dead," Malfoy crowed, an evil grin on his face. "The Dark Lord will not let that shield fall until he kills the brat."

"Never!" Ron shouted. He started spitting out a steady stream of curses and hexes towards Lucius, who was managing to deflect each one, but just barely. He was unable to cast any offensive spells, so instead he took to taunting his opponent, hoping to make him angry enough to make a mistake.

"Draco has been telling me how much he will enjoy making you his slaves once the Dark Lord reigns. He always has said you, Weasel, would be fit only for manual labor, but he believes the Mudblood will make a decent fuck toy, once she has been properly train…"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"Lucius barely managed to throw himself to the ground as Ron's killing curse sped over his head, splashing against a tree which immediately withered. Ron stood panting, drained of magical energy, a slightly sick look on his face from casting an Unforgivable.

"I'm afraid," Malfoy said standing back up, "that poor Draco will have to miss the use of a weasel. No slave should ever be allowed to cast a spell like that at his master." He lowered his wand, aiming at the redhead, who looked on, hoping he could dodge whatever Malfoy cast.

"Avada Kedav…"

His attention focused on Ron, Lucius forgot about Hermione who cast a banishing charm with all her might. Flying through the air once again, the Death Eater was hurled into the concrete fence surrounding the property. His head hit the stone with an audible crack that Hermione heard even from twenty yards away.

She and Ron rushed to face him, wands at the ready, but a bright red stream running down his white silk shirt told Ron the threat was over. Hermione felt sick to her stomach. Even with all the danger this past year, no one had died. Any Death Eaters they faced, they would capture if they could, and turn over to the Aurors. Hermione was the first of the trio to kill someone, even on accident.

She sank to the ground, wanting to throw up, wanting to faint, wanting to do anything besides stare at the dead body she couldn't help staring at. Suddenly she was looking up at Ron, who was shaking her shoulders.

"Hermione! Hermione! Wake up! Are you ok?"

_I must have fainted, _she thought, a little relieved. She was about to answer when she saw Ron's hand raise up above her head. She stared in shock as it swung towards her face, hitting her at the same time he yelled, "Wake up, bitch!"

* * *

"Wake up, bitch!" The yelling and the slap brought her back to reality. Gasping, she tried to sit up, but couldn't move. Straining she found that her arms, legs and chest were all tied down. The place was dark and unfamiliar; an ugly face was leering down at her. _I recognize that face,_ she thought, still a bit dazed from the slap. 

Crabbe. Matching the name to the face helped bring the rest of her memory back. Draco Malfoy in Harry's hotel room. _Why didn't he kill me? Oh yeah. Harry took the blame, or credit, for killing the senior Malfoy so I wouldn't go to trial. _She had been ready to confess, despite Harry's objections, if he ended up going to trial, but he had figured correctly. The-Boy-Who-Lived killing a senior member of a pureblood family was a lot more believable, and acceptable, than a mudblood killing him. She had no doubt that she would have gone to trial, even jail, if she confessed, even considering he had been working for Voldemort.

Now, instead of killing her a long time ago, Draco had used her somehow, followed her here to get revenge on Harry, on the wrong person. There had to be some way to warn Harry! Hermione had to admit, though, that her options were very limited. Motionless, guarded by Crabbe, she had to hope Harry would find some way to deal with Draco and track her down.

* * *

The tracker had been programmed to beep when the subject traveled more than a mile from the tracking device. Harry was moving towards the elevator at the first beep. 

"Are you sure you have this planned?" Texas asked, rushing to keep up with him. They walked into an empty elevator, blocking the way of some other people who tried to join them.

"This elevator is full," Harry said coldly. None of the strangers wanted to mess with the owner of that voice, not when the owner of that voice had eyes that burned with a green flame. The doors closed and the cabin started its upward climb. "Look," he said, "Malfoy doesn't know I know about him. He thinks he has the upper hand. I just have to show him that I have the advantage while you go and find Hermione."

"The first casualty of battle is always the plan." Texas regretted saying that when Harry glared. "Ok, I'm sorry. I'll find her. I promise."

Harry sighed. "I didn't mean to get angry. I'm just worried. Even if we hadn't fallen for each other, she's still one of my oldest and best friends. I planned to use her as bait before I realized my feelings. Now I feel like shit for going through with it anyways."

"If it makes you feel any better," Texas said after a moment. "I never believed you when you told me y'all were just friends."

Harry snorted. "Thanks, I think."

The doors opened as the elevator reached Harry's floor, cutting off any more conversation. Harry paused and turned as he stepped out of the elevator. Texas saw a small flicker of doubt cross his friend's face. That worried him a little. If Harry had enough doubts that they showed on his face, even if for a split-second, he couldn't be entirely confident about how to handle Draco.

"I'll find her. I will," Texas promised. Harry nodded.

Texas had also noticed that the coordinates displayed on the screen hadn't changed for the past minute. The tracking devices were sensitive enough to register a change in location of a meter. He hoped the unchanging coordinates only meant that she was tied up, nothing worse.

* * *

As soon as the doors closed, Harry allowed the expression of doubt to fade off his face. He hoped Texas would believe he was worried. It would help him move a little bit faster to get to Hermione. It would also keep him out of Harry's way for the next half hour or so. Harry knew he had predicted Draco's actions correctly when the device showed Hermione had moved. Draco still wasn't a killer. He thanked Dumbledore silently for the insight he had provided Harry all those years ago on top of the Astronomy Tower. 

Draco could have just killed Hermione and left her in the hotel room. That sudden thought caused Harry to shudder. He was definitely glad that Draco acted as predicted. He was pretty sure that would make the rest of his plan easy. A feral grin spread across his face as he strode off to his hotel room. To Malfoy.

* * *

Draco knew he wouldn't have much time alone. He was a little surprised that he had managed to catch the mudblood alone so soon. _Sometimes, the universe just goes my way,_ he thought. Malfoys knew better than to rely on luck, however. Before he sent her away by portkey, he scanned Granger quite thoroughly. No tracking spells at all. He had actually managed to get the drop on Harry Potter. He had no time to savor the moment right now. That would have to come later. He started preparing the room as quick as possible. 

Draco cast the last silencing spell on the wall just as Potter walked in. The entire room was layered; doors, walls, floor, ceiling, windows. He didn't want anyone but him hearing Potter scream.

Potter didn't even blink. He saw Draco in the center of the room, nodded (_nodded?!)_, said, "Hello, Malfoy," and walked into his room without breaking his stride. Draco was dumbstruck. _Nine years away from the world and this is how he reacts?_ Potter had changed. Draco had expected a shout, a scream, a drawn wand, anything besides utter indifference! He had to admit he would expect the reaction he just saw from someone like Severus, designed to throw an opponent off-balance. _That's all he's doing, _Draco told himself. _He's just managed to learn how to control his emotions better._ Potter had tried to make him lose control of the situation by improvising, acting like he had expected to see Draco. All he had to do was regain control of the situation.

"I have the Mudblood, Potter." Draco had to shout through the half-closed door of Potter's room. It seemed almost… insulting, as if he were begging an audience. He was spared further indignity when the door opened and Potter stepped out. He had changed out of that ridiculously bright shirt into a more somber black.

"Who?" Potter asked nonchalantly, leaning against the wall.

_Who? Who did he think?! _"Have you gone simple, Potter? Who do you think?"

"You're going to have to be more specific, Malfoy. There are so many people you would consider to be a 'mudblood' that coming into my room and announcing your possession of some random person is hardly going to affect me."

"Some… random… person?!" Draco sputtered. _Had Potter actually gone mad?_ After spending only twenty-four hours in this city, Draco could almost believe it. "I have Granger, Potter. Who else would I mean?"

"Oh, you mean Hermione?" The look of confusion on Potter's face sent Draco into a fury.

"Yes!" He shouted. Then it hit him. Potter had to know who he was talking about. The obtuseness was just an act. It was as if Potter had been taking lessons in psychological manipulation from Severus. Draco was going to have to be more attentive when dealing with Potter. Just stick to the script.

"If you try to hurt me, she'll die, Potter. See this wristband?" he asked holding up his wrist. "My associate has its twin. Any harmful magic you cast on me will turn both bands black. If that happens, he's been instructed to kill her immediately."

"I guess that means I have to do whatever you say, then, doesn't it?" Potter smiled as he reached behind his back and brought out a small piece of metal with a hole in one end. Draco raised his wand.

"What is that? What do you think you're doing?"

Potter squeezed his hand.

* * *

The silencing charms Malfoy had so considerately layered on the suite absorbed the echo from the gunshot. The muffled crack was still plenty loud inside the small room. Harry couldn't really blame Malfoy for his ignorance. He supposed a lifelong indoctrination of the superiorities of the magic world would mean Malfoy wouldn't think much, if anything of a muggle invention like a pistol. Harry was still very relieved to see the wristband on Malfoy's wrist remain the same shiny silver. 

Malfoy collapsed to the ground, a new hole in his leg, howling in pain. He tried to point his wand at Harry and cast a spell.

"AVADA KE…"

CRACK!

* * *

The second gunshot took Draco in the hand, shattering his wand and tearing off a finger. He howled in pain once again, cradling his bloody hand, staring at his silver wristband as if it betrayed him. 

"You never were a decent thinker, Malfoy. And how, because of your lack of planning, you're getting blood all over my nice carpet." Potter's casual words cut through the pain, and Draco focused on the next sentences.

"I knew you were following Hermione since I first saw her. You think I hadn't prepared for this eventuality for the past nine years? My people have had an eye on you since you spoke with Don Rapheal. If you think I'm the least bit worried about Granger, remember that she disturbed my life, found me against my wishes. I had no problem using her as bait." Draco couldn't believe it. Potter had never before sounded so cold, so unforgiving. Draco had seriously misjudged his enemy.

He lost sight of Potter for a second. He was feeling cold and nauseous. He struggled to keep the contents of his stomach down; Malfoys did not vomit. Potter suddenly reappeared with some white cloth, which he started wrapping around the wounded leg.

"What… what are you doing?"

"You're going into shock, Malfoy. As appealing as the idea is, I'm not going to let you die. Not yet. You're hand is all fucked up, by the way. You'll be lucky for even the best medi-wizards to reattach your finger. You might be facing the Wizengamot with only nine fingers."

"The bracelet… not… black."

"You said it yourself, Malfoy. 'Any harmful magic.' A gun is not magic. You're so arrogant, you couldn't even think of the possibility that I could harm you without magic."

"Magic… heal… magic." Draco was finding it harder to focus. If he tried to Apparate now, he would splinch himself for sure.

"If I haven't lifted my wand for nine years, why do you think I would bother now? Besides, Malfoy, I don't want you healed. I just need you alive. Now, before you pass out, where is Granger?"

"Go… hell…" Draco was proud to be able to spit some sort of defiance. The joy was short-lived as he fell into darkness.

* * *

Harry grabbed a blanket from his room. He had only killed one person (_well, that's stretching the definition of 'person')_ in his life. As much as he despised Malfoy, he wasn't about to kill someone in cold blood. Still, he was grateful for all the times Texas would drag him out to the shooting range. Once he adjusted to the recoil, Harry proved to be a natural with a pistol. In fact, Texas had once remarked that Harry seemed to be a natural at a lot of things; riding a broom, riding a motorcycle, shooting a pistol, dueling with wands… Harry couldn't disagree. That skill came in useful when he only wanted to aim at Malfoy's leg and hand, to injure, not kill.

He had used Legilimancy when he asked about Hermione. Draco was unable to hide his thoughts of the hotel in Reno where Crabbe was keeping her. That explained why Don Raphael had been unable to find out where in Vegas Draco might take her. Harry pulled out his cell phone to call Texas. He needed to know which hotel and room number Hermione was held in. The phone wouldn't dial, though. He looked and saw he had no bars. _Shit, it must be all these silencing spells. I can just go get her myself soon as I stabilize Malfoy._

The quick first aid lesson Texas had given last night proved indispensable. If Harry hadn't been told about medical shock, he could have missed the signs and Malfoy would have ended up dying. Not that Harry would have shed a tear. He turned the body to the side in case he threw up while unconscious. He was about to drape the blanket when he noticed a problem. A big Problem.

The bracelet had turned black.

_My Legilimancy!_ Suddenly, Harry couldn't care less if Draco choked on his own vomit. He dropped the blanket, ran to his room and punched in the key code to his room safe. He pulled the two items out and used his wand to un-shrink his trunk. He threw the lid open and grabbed his broom and invisibility cloak.

He was thankful he kept in control enough to replace the window he vanished before he flew towards Reno. That would have taken some explaining to the hotel...

_Of course Draco would have protected against Legilimancy!_ Harry honestly could not believe he had been so stupid. There was no way Texas could have made it to Reno yet. He had been too overconfident, and now, he had got Hermione killed. There might be a chance Crabbe hadn't noticed the bracelet yet. But Harry knew he was only deluding himself. His tears of anger, of grief flew behind him as he sped against the wind, drying up in the Nevada night air.

All too soon, he was approaching the hotel where he would find Hermione's body. He angled his broom directly at the room from Draco's mind. He aimed his wand and cast a bludgeoning curse. He had to slow down to keep his broom from outrunning the spell. It was only split second between his spell disintegrating the door and Harry flying into the room, jumping off his broom and yelling, "HERMIONE!"

* * *

Hermione shuddered as Crabbe once again grabbed her breast. Draco had more than likely told him not to harm her, but that apparently didn't apply to molestation. O_r slaps in the face, _Hermione thought. 

"You may be just a filthy Mudblood, but I've never minded getting a little dirty when I play," Crabbe said

"A double-entendre, Crabbe? I'm impressed. You had a hard enough time learning the single-entendre back at school." The satisfaction she felt at seeing the anger on his face vanished when he backhanded her across the cheek. Hermione could taste a little bit of blood in her mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, Mudblood! You would be surprised at what I know, such as how much Ican hurt you without hurting you." He slapped her again, hard. This one rattled her head and Hermione absently wondered how bad the bruises were going to be before she managed to heal herself. There had to be some way to escape. For Merlin's sake, it was only Crabbe! But her mind was blank. She couldn't think of anything except what she had already seen in some movie.

In… some… movie. A muggle movie! Of course! Crabbe had probably never seen a movie, not since it was a muggle invention. Maybe she did have a chance…

"Crabbe? I need to use the restroom."

"Tough shit."

"But I'll pee over everything! I'll stink up the room!"

"I. Do. Not. Care." Crabbe spoke each word very slowly. "My orders are to keep you there no matter what. You're a Mudblood; you shouldn't worry about a little extra filth."

"C'mon, Crabbe!" Hermione protested. "You've got a wand! The least you could do is let me keep myself clean? What can I do?" Crabbe just shook his head. _One last idea…_

"I'm on my period!"

"Sure you are." But Hermione caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"You probably want me to wet myself. That's why you haven't raped me yet. It's not messy enough. It's not bloody enough for…"

"SHUT UP!" Crabbe roared as he slapped her harder then ever. Her head hung limply and for a second, he worried that he had hit her too hard. He was actually a little relieved when she groaned a few seconds later. He had to be careful; if he got too angry, he could ruin Draco's plan.

"Is it… bloody enough… for you yet?" Hermione's voice was slurred from the repeated hits. Crabbe could see blood on her teeth, starting to drip down her lip. He was annoyed at himself for letting her accusations affect him. She was only a Mudblood!

"I'm not like that." Crabbe sounded like he was trying to control his anger. "Listen up. I'm going to untie you so you can use the bathroom. If you make one move I don't like, Draco won't mind if I kill you. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Crabbe." Inside her mind, she was overjoyed. The plan was working! As Crabbe untied her, she acted weaker than she felt, which wasn't much of a stretch. She collapsed to her knees before he could catch her. He had to help her stand up and lead her to the bathroom. She didn't expect him to let her, but she tried to close the door anyway.

"Don't even think about it."

It was difficult to do her business with him standing there, but she knew he would be angry if he thought she was trying to trick him. She forced some water out, and cleaned herself up. She stopped at the sink to wash her hands and splash some water on her face. She gasped as she saw herself in the mirror. Both sides of her face were red and swollen. Her lip was bloody and bruised.

"Hurry up," Crabbe growled. She quickly drank some water from the sink and spit it out, worried about the pinkish tinge she saw as the spit washed down the drain. Crabbe pointed his wand at her to move faster, so she turned to head back. Her foot caught the edge of the rug between the bathroom and the rest of the room, and in her weakened state, she stumbled and fell. Crabbe was so close, he reflexively reached out and grabbed her arms. Perfect.

* * *

A few years ago, when there was a rash of assaults and muggings in London, Hermione's mother had talked her into the two of them attending a Ladies Self-Defence Class. The point of the class was to teach women how to defend themselves against attackers bigger and stronger, at least long enough to run away and get to the police. Hermione had never expected to use the class, being a witch, but went along anyways. 

The class had only taken a couple of hours, but Hermione enjoyed the time she got to spend with her mum, something she had little time to do. And if she pictured Ron's face on the padded man and kicked a little harder than might be necessary… well, she did get some praise from the instructor. She even heard a slight groan from beneath the mass of cushions one time.

* * *

This was an unexpected final exam, but Hermione, being who she was, aced it. She took a step forward and rammed her knee into Crabbe's groin as hard as she could. All his breath rushed out in a squeaky groan as he collapsed in a heap, grabbing his injured area.

Hermione scooped up his wand. "Incarcerous!" As ropes wound themselves around his body, a small wristband caught Hermione's attention as it changed from silver to jet black.

_Damn! That must be a warning to Draco!_ She had no clue where she actually was, so running outside could be a very bad idea. Looking around the hotel room, she saw no decent hiding places for either Crabbe or herself. She levitated his groaning body into the bathroom, throwing a few silencing charms just incase he managed to squeak something out above a soprano voice.

That still left her out in the open. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…" She didn't even realize she was cursing out loud. It didn't matter that she would have the drop on Draco if he came through the door. What if he Apparated? She backed into a corner, wand pointed towards the middle of the room, wondering when Malfoy would appear.

It only took ten minutes.

The door exploded into splinters, causing her to scream. She started casting stunning spells as fast as she could in all directions. She heard him yell, "HERMIONE!" just before a thud told her his body hit the ground, stunned. She realized her eyes were closed only when she opened one for a peak. His body was lying half-hidden by a chair, and she sent another stunning spell to his chest just to be sure he wasn't faking.

_He called me Hermione_. Draco never called her by her first name. He always used "Mudblood" or "Granger." That realization penetrated her thoughts and she rushed over to the body with a squeak. Her boyfriend, her knight in shining armor riding to her rescue, Harry Potter was lying on the floor, completely unconscious, compliments of at least two of her stunning spells.

"Oops." She giggled.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to the vision of an angel. She had to be an angel; he had gotten her killed, hadn't he? He reached up to touch her face. She felt so real. That must mean he had died, also. He couldn't remember anything after rushing into the hotel room. Crabbe must have gotten the drop on him. That was embarrassing, even dead.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," he slurred. "Got you… killed."

"Take it easy, Harry. Take a few deep breaths."

"We need to breathe?" Harry was still groggy, but he was pretty sure dead people didn't breathe.

"I'm pretty sure we do, Harry. But if you like, I could remove your lungs and we could find out first hand if breathing is optional." The humor in her voice cut through the last bits of fog in Harry's mind.

"You're alive? I'm alive? We're alive?" Hermione nodded. "But how? I didn't even notice when my Legilimancy turned the bracelet black. Why didn't Crabbe kill you right away?"

"Wait, you turned the wristband black? I thought I did that when I tied Crabbe up with his own wand."

"What?" Harry asked. "What do you mean? What happened here?" Hermione told him how she managed to escape.

"So, exactly when you used the spell on him, the bracelet turned black?"

"Yes." Hermione wondered what had happened between Harry and Draco. She started to ask but,

"Of course," Harry said to himself. "They're twins." Then he started laughing.

"What? What happened? What's so funny?" She was anxious to know. Harry tried to compose himself, but for some reason he only started laughing harder. He grabbed her into a tight embrace, kissing the top of her hair, hugging her like he never wanted to let go.

"You're amazing, Hermione," he said as he leaned back, looking right into her eyes.

_Explanations can wait_ she decided as they leaned in for a kiss.

Suddenly, someone screamed and ran through the door. Harry and Hermione both had their wands out in a heartbeat, trained on the target. Hermione actually shot a stunning spell off before Harry shouted, "Wait!"

Harry groaned as Texas fell to the floor unconscious. "It's only Texas," he said.

"I know," Hermione answered. She hadn't known, but didn't want to admit it. Harry turned to her with a look of shock. He saw amusement mingled with regret.

"You knew? Then why did you stun him?"

"He shouldn't have interrupted my kiss," she said with a pout.

Harry stared. Hermione shrugged. That set them both off, and it took awhile for the laughter to die down in a doorless hotel room in Reno, Nevada.

* * *

A/N: My blatant theft of the chapter comes from The Black Jewels Trilogy. The line about removing Harry's lungs was stolen from the second book, Heir to the Shadows. If you enjoy Royal Flush, and haven't read the trilogy, you should. You'll enjoy it.

I've been looking forward to this chapter for awhile. I think part of the problem I had with Nine was knowing that writing this out was waiting for me. I think one of the few scenes I look forward to more than this chapter is when Harry reunites with Ron. Trust me, that will be fun. It's not for awhile, though. At least 2 or 3 chapters.

I mentioned in my Yahoo group about possibly ending Royal Flush here, and starting the next story as a sequel, but I don't see that happening right now. There's one or two more chapters for Royal Flush before I can tie things up enough to unravel them for a new story.

However, I don't see chapter 11 getting posted until December sometime. Most of the problem is the fact that I'm going to be traveling for a week or so in a couple of days. I'm not sure how much computer access I'll have in Kuwait, or at home before I get my computer and other furniture delivered and unpacked. At the worst, you might get a couple chapters all in a row come January.

Stygius: I honestly don't know how much longer the story is going to go on, either as one book or a few books in a set. Right now, I only have a very broad outline playing around in my head. I feel that writing such stuff down causes me problems when I start writing because I seem to think up very good ideas on the spot. I'm sure I'll be as surprised by the words "The End" as you will be whenever I finally write them. By the way, who said **anything** about a dead Draco? I have other plans for him (evil laugh)

what are you even saying: Was that rescue dramatic enough for you:)

SummrMagic: Poor Hermione? (smirk) I really like Hermione as a character. I just happen to agree with canon that she should end up with Ron, but I'm probably going to make her a lot more fun to read about in my story than JKR does in hers.

Aquila: send me the story sometime, if you can get to my group, post it there. If you can't, then send me a Private Message, and we'll figure out a way to exchange the story.

eaglesnest: It was more of a problem of chapter 9 flowing out of my pen like molasses whereas the other chapters flow like water. I don't hate it, but I certainly know I could do better. I hope this chapter is proof of that.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **I really really really apologize for the loooooooooooong delay with this update. It's a semi-short chapter compared to the rest, and I'll explain more at the bottom.**  
**

* * *

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter 11**

"Let me get this straight, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Texas …" The Quick-Notes Quill stopped scribbling on the hovering notebook and moved out of the way as the Chief Auror grabbed it, flipped back a few pages and started reading. "Miss Granger all of a sudden decides to come to this, city," the Auror suppressed a shudder at the thought of a wizard _wanting_ to come to Las Vegas. "With very little warning to her supervisors, no warning at all to family and friends, you take a month off work and come here… just to _visit_? You had _no_ idea that Harry Potter, the most famous wizard in your country was hiding out here, as a muggle, until you ran into him outside a casino?"

"That's right." For once, Hermione's voice didn't sound completely self-assured.

"Of course it is." Nobody would mistake the sarcasm in those four words for sincerity. "You just happened to pick the one city in all the world that The-Boy-Who-Disappeared chose to hide, _by accident._ The reunion was just an _accident._ And then, Mr. Malfoy just _happens _to run into the _both_ of you, by _accident._" The Auror seemed to grow more irate with each sentence. "Does it look, to the three of you, like I just left NAMBLA School yesterday?"

"NAMBLA?" Texas' voice held a definite note of amusement, and Hermione noticed, with not a little alarm, that the corners of Harry's mouth were twitching, as if he were fighting to keep from smiling, or laughing.

"It stands for North American Magical Bureau of Legal Authority," she said, wondering what was so funny. "It was created secretly by the United States president 180 years ago when a large number of wizard immigrants started arriving from around the world. NAMBLA is responsible for policing the large number of wizards and witches living within the United States, Canada and Mexico without betraying their existence to the public."

It didn't help that Hermione's explanation didn't seem to calm the two down. She never would guess that these guys were poker players from the way they couldn't keep from twitching with laughter. She just wished she understood what was so funny, so she could pretend to ignore the alarming shade of purple the Auror's face was turning.

"And this, Mr. Texas, here. How is it he knows of magic without NAMBLA knowing about it? We're supposed to monitor all muggles aware of our society. Just telling him could constitute a serious crime… what is so damned funny?!" The Auror seemed about to explode as Harry and Texas finally burst out laughing, collapsing on a sofa. The volume of his roar brought the rest of the room to a complete stop. The medi-wizards tending to Malfoy's injuries and the other Aurors scanning the room for evidence of spell damage all stopped and turned to look at the apoplectic chief, the embarrassed Hermione and the two men unable to stop laughing.

"The fault is mine, sir," Harry said, making a valiant effort to keep a straight face. "You know that I was raised by muggles in Britain, so I was barely aware of _our_ magical government, much less any other countries. By the time I, um… left the country, I trusted the goblins at Gringotts to handle any legal affairs. I wasn't aware I had to inform NAMBLA…" Harry finally demonstrated his poker prowess by managing not to burst into laughter again, "that I had let a muggle in on our secret. I trust him with my life, and he's known for two years, but never betrayed my secret to anyone."

"_YOUR _secret! _YOUR _life! Don't you realize? This is about more than just YOU! This is about our whole society being exposed to muggles who will automatically assume the worst! This is about _OUR_ secret, _ALL _of_ OUR _lives that you're risking. Did you check with every single wizard in this country before you decided to blab to this muggle? That's the importance of NAMBLA, to keep impetuous wizards from making decisions disastrous to the rest of our world. That's…"

"SHUT UP!" Harry was standing now, not a trace of smile in his face, his eyes green fire. Power rolled off him in waves, making Hermione shiver. The rest of the people in the room watched in awe as the chief's mouth snapped shut almost biting his tongue.

"Sit down!" The chief was parked in a chair before he even realized it, unable to break away from Harry's stare.

"_I'M_ an impetuous wizard? _I _have to check with every single witch and wizard before taking action? Where the hell was your precious NAMBLA when Voldemort was rampaging unchecked through my country?" It was a testament to Harry's power that not even Texas thought of snickering again at the ill-luck acronym. "Where were _you_ when Voldemort killed my parents? Where were _you_ when England called for help from all its allies to deal with the dark lord? Where the _HELL_ were _YOU _when I had to defeat him at the age of 18, barely even a wizard? I had been learning for less than seven years, and I managed to defeat a wizard that had the rest of the world shaking it their collective boots. You don't want to believe what Hermione says? FINE. But don't you _dare_ insult her in front of me! She's shown me more bravery than anyone else I've ever met! She was instrumental in defeating an insane dark wizard bent on world domination? You're worried about random muggles knowing _our _secret? Texas has been one of my most valued friends in my time here! Who the hell are you to question _any_ of my decisions?!"

The chief could only manage to stammer and babble wordlessly each time Harry's finger pointed at him. Waves of power continued rolling off Harry until the room seemed saturated in magic. Hermione was actually finding it hard to breath, as if the oxygen was being forced out of the room. She wondered if that wasn't actually the case; that she was suffering from oxygen deprivation when she saw Harry's wand materialize in his hand out of thin air. _Just like he had said happened last time!_ Now that she knew it wasn't an isolated incident, maybe she could track down the source of this phenomenon. Well, later, as she was a little too busy enjoying the look of terror on the chief's face.

"You know what? Just get out. All of you. Take Malfoy and leave my hotel room. Contact my representatives at Gringotts if you need any more information, but for right now, I don't want to see a single person in my room other than my two friends."

"But… investigation… interfering…" The chief was still having trouble managing a coherent sentence, but Harry understood well enough to start getting angry again. Hermione was worried that he would actually hurt the foolish Auror when one of the wizards at the back of the room spoke up.

"Actually, chief, we're all done here. The prisoner is ready for transport to the hospital and we're done scanning the suite." He looked at Harry nervously, hoping that what he said managed to prevent any more violence. The chief actually seemed grateful for the rescue, quickly motioning for everyone to pack up and leave as if it had been his idea all along. The rest of the wizards and witches wasted no time exiting the suite, and before long they were alone.

"Uh, sir…" Well, almost. It was the same wizard who spoke up earlier. "I'm sorry, but there's one other thing we need. I need to scan your wand's signature to match it with the spells cast within the last twenty-four hours. You're allowed to refuse, of course, but with Mr. Malfoy's wand broken, it would be better legally if I were to be allowed to scan yours and Miss Granger's."

"Why would we refuse?" Harry seemed puzzled.

"Well," the wizard looked nervous. "You see, we've scanned all the spell casting in this room and if you weren't telling the truth, we'd know simply from the volume of spells cast in here. So you have the right to refuse to keep from incriminating your self by exposing any possible lies."

Wordlessly, Harry handed over his wand. The wizard made a few passes with his wand, and muttered something under his breath. A small grey cloud issued forth from Harry's wand. The wizard poked his wand into the middle and drew it back, holding up a piece of paper.

"Hmm… magical signature is 86.75309, corresponds with one enlarging spell, one vanishing spell, and one minor conjuration, the window, I'd guess. Nothing else." The technician smiled and passed the wand back to Harry. "See? Just like you said, though I'm sure you didn't need me to prove it to you."

Hermione got up and handed her wand over to the wizard, who made the same passes. "Let's see, 77.62323. The only spell we found was an old cleaning spell that we could barely make out, definitely past the twenty-four hour mark. Your wand is clean as well."

The technician turned to leave, but stopped and turned back around. "I know you want everyone gone, but I think it's only fair to warn you of what I think is going to happen."

"Go on."

"Well, I'm betting that the Malfoy's legal team will arrange to get him extradited back to England, something NAMBLA probably isn't going to fight, as they want to stay on good working terms with the DMLE. So Malfoy will probably end up back in England, most likely before the week is out. From what he was saying before the healers knocked him… I mean gave him something for the pain, he's going to claim that he was kidnapped by you and Miss Granger. That's going to reveal your location to the society, which could cause all sorts of reporters and others coming here to try to find you. And sooner or later, they'll succeed. Look at how Miss Granger found you by complete accident." The corners of the wizard's mouth twitched a little, but when he saw them both smile, he knew there was more to the story, even though he chose not to pursue it.

"It might be better for you to emerge over there so people can see you before Mr. Malfoy can drag you out against your will. Also, my scanning your wands makes your defense easier, but it's not over yet, completely. With Mr. Malfoy's wand destroyed, he can make all sorts of claims as to who used it, and there's no way to prove the veracity of any of his comments. Even with magic, it's going to come down to a 'he said, you said,' scenario. You need to start getting people to believe your side of the story before the press sympathizes with Malfoy."

Harry started to smile. "I think that might be the most diplomatic way I've ever heard someone say, 'get the hell out of here.'"

"Harry!" Hermione was shocked, while the wizard looked worried, wondering just how bad he'd pissed off THE Harry Potter. Harry started laughing.

"No, no. I don't mean it like that. You raised some very good points, and they all lead me to the conclusion that I'm going to need to head back to England, even if I hadn't been planning on it for some time. We should be gone within a day or two. Tell your boss that if he needs anything more, it would be a wise move to send you instead of coming himself."

The wizard gratefully hurried out the door, and finally the three were alone. Texas couldn't help himself. "NAMBLA? The wizard's authority in the U.S. is _NAMBLA_?" Both he and Harry fell on the sofa, laughing until tears were running from their eyes. Hermione stared at the two of them, trying to figure out what was so funny. Giving it up as a bad job all around, she headed back to her room, to shower and change.

"Men," she muttered as she walked away. Texas and Harry heard her.

"Oh yeah?" Texas asked. "At least we're not the boys!" At that, he and Harry howled with laughter as Hermione walked away to preserve her dignity.

line break

Thirty minutes later, Hermione, freshly showered and changed, walked back out to the main room to find Harry alone, playing Solitaire on the dining table, his back to her.

"So, are you going to tell me what the big joke was?" Harry jumped at her voice, but recovered quickly and turned around.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." He seemed not to want to tell her, but she just stared until finally he sighed and relented.

"NAMBLA is not just a wizard acronym. The muggles use it for an organization that, uh, is… not exactly… well, it's just a bad group to be a part of."

"At least tell me what it means." Hermione wasn't sure why she was asking, probably just because she hated not knowing something.

"Fine, it stands for North American Man/Boy Love Association. It's a group of old men who think that having sex with underage boys should be legal."

"What?!" Hermione was sorry she had asked. She couldn't believe that even the normally myopic wizarding society would not know about such a coincidence and take steps to change their name so as not to be associated with such an organization. Yet she saw how the chief was clueless, just like she was this afternoon, if she had to be honest with herself.

"Where'd Texas go?" It was definitely time to introduce a change of topic into the conversation. Still, she wasn't too happy to see Harry smirk at her obvious shock. She'd pay him back, later.

"He went to find a way to install a fireplace in his home. It will be the easiest way to keep in contact until I can figure out how to install telephones at 12 Grimmauld Place."

"But, wouldn't we be able to use cell phones to talk to him?" It took Hermione a second. "Wait, 12 Grim… you're coming back to England? For real? Like they suggested?"

Harry nodded, a small smile on his face. Overcome with joy, Hermione leapt into his arms, hugging him as hard as she could. His arms went around her, supporting her as she remained off the ground, her legs around his waist.

"I can't believe it a week ago I thought I'd never see you again then I thought I saw you on the TV and made this crazy journey here to this horrible city and I find you in less than a day and now we're together again and you're coming home to England and I have no clue what I'm saying I'm just babbling!" Hermione could feel moisture forming in her eyes and swore not to cry. Her nose betrayed her, however, letting out a small sniffle.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry for all I put you through." Harry's voice was low and soothing. He moved over to the couch and sat down, making no attempt to reposition either of them.

For some reason, sitting on top of Harry's lap, facing him felt so different from letting him hold her while she hugged him. It was more… charged, more… erotic. Her legs were on the outside, pinning his so he couldn't move unless she wanted him to. His hands had fallen to the outside of her thighs, just sitting there, as if he didn't want to move too fast. As if she would acknowledge the existence of such a speed right now.

She pulled her head back and stared in his eyes. She saw all the desire she had mirrored. She also saw a trace of sorrow, that he took so long to be found, but right then she didn't care. This wasn't the moment for apologies and reminiscences, for talking and interruptions. This was a time for unspoken promises, for affirmations, for desire.

"Hermione," He never got a chance to finish what he was about to say as she finally pressed her lips to his. Harry was startled that she had made the first move like she had, but then he realized that she was probably getting as frustrated as he had been by all their almost kisses and interruptions. He certainly wasn't going to argue with her taking the initiative. He started kissing her back, moving his hands up to her back, kneading, massaging different areas, pushing her closer. He wondered which of them would have to break away first to take a breath. Her hands were running through his hair, making it even messier than it usually stayed.

She didn't want to, but finally, she had to pull away, gasping for breath. Harry saw a flush on her cheeks that told him she was becoming just as affected as he was. Her eyes were somewhat unfocused, and she seemed to be looking through him, instead of just at him. He knew that he mirrored the desire he saw in her eyes. He also saw the smallest bit of hesitation, and knew that felt the same way.

"Harry, we can't…"

"I know; it's too fast. For us, at least." He thought he might have spoken too quickly, but he saw a measure of relief in her eyes as he agreed with her.

"So, you're not angry?"

"Angry?" He almost laughed. "Of course not, 'disappointed' would be a better term, but I'm relieved. It felt great kissing you, but still a little…"

"… weird." She finished for him. "I know. I always thought of you as a brother, and now, well…"

"What? What do you think now?"

"Maybe a hot stepbrother," finished with a smirk. Harry choked. Hermione giggled, and felt him laughing as well. She adjusted herself so she was sitting sideways across his lap, leaning against him.

"So, no sex?" She asked.

"Not tonight." He confirmed.

"Good." Hermione reached down and pulled her shirt over her head in one swift movement, leaving Harry gaping at a decently filled, lacy, dark purple bra.

"But… but… you said…" he stammered, unable to tear his eyes away.

"I said 'no sex.' I didn't say anything about not having any fun." She grabbed his head and leaned down for a second kiss, this one fiery, inviting, and more full of passion than their previous kiss, a feat Harry would have thought impossible a second before. As she pulled away she said, "We're going to use tonight to work out the weirdness. No matter how long it takes." She grabbed his hands and placed them where she felt they needed to be as she leaned in and started nibbling on his ear.

Wisely, Harry surrendered to the inevitable…

* * *

**A/N:** First off, I know it's been almost 3 months exactly since my last update. Let me first say that was never my intention. However, having been off digital crack for over a year, I badly underestimated the pull a new MMORPG would have over me.

Almost immediately after I got back, I spent a lot of time with reunions, family down south, friends in Austin, and I was counting on that. What I wasn't counting on was finding that Vanguard:Saga of Heroes was in an Open Beta Status, that I was able to join. Now, this game is made by the people who originally made Everquest. My first digital crack.

I was hooked.

No, I don't think you understand. I played that game almost non-stop for 5 years, leveling up a monk on the Lanys T'vyl server by the same name I use here. In fact, this name has taken over all my online accounts that I can think of. I finally quit before my second deployment to Iraq, when the game stopped being fun. When I found myself logging out to surf the internet, or read a book more often than not.

Now there's Vanguard, the next generation. Please never talk to me about WoW. That game is a worthless waste of server hardware and broadband connections. At least in my point of view. Vanguard is tough. It's a game made for people like me, who love to sink their teeth into a game. People who don't play "casually," who like the idea of taking forever to level, who love to explore and find all sorts of new places and meet all sorts of people. My character is named (duh) Lansydyr, a Kojani Human Monk specializing in the Drunken Mastery Style on the Woefeather Server. If any of my fans play, and are on that server, make sure you send me a tell to say hi.

Now, back to my story. I'm so sorry about the NAMBLA jokes. I have no clue where it came from, but I think I was trying to to work out an acronym for the american wizard legal branch, and NAMBLA and it's "magical" connotation popped into my head, fully formed, like Athena springing out of Zeus' head. Once I stopped laughing and was able to type again, I realized that this was great idea for a joke in the story. So much so that the ORIGINAL idea that got me writing again got pushed back to next chapter.

Fortunately, I have a MUCH better idea of what's going to happen next than I ever did (until about 2 days ago) for this chapter. I hope this means that I'll have Chapter 12 finished and posted sometime soon (within a few weeks if not sooner). Don't hold me too that though.

Finally, if you haven't, join my Yahoo Group, Royal Flush By Lansydyr. It was their gentle needling that finally managed to get me to start _trying _to type again. I'll admit, I tried about 5 different first paragraphs, giving up in frustration before I finally figured out what was going on.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I've already started working on Chapter Thirteen. I was going to put the majority of the next chapter in with this, but I felt it was a big enough scene change, it deserves its own chapter. It shouldn't take long, I don't think. Thirteen is one of the chapters I've been waiting for. More A/N at the bottom.**  
**

* * *

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter Twelve**

"What did you say again?" Mike couldn't believe his ears. He had been working at the front desk of the Bellagio for 3 years now, and would never have believed that this would happen. This guest had been living here longer than he'd been working here!

"I'd like to check out." Harry recognized Mike's confusion. After over 7 years of living in this place, he supposed he had been a bit of a fixture. It didn't stop him from smirking at Mike's flustered countenance. Hermione was holding in a little bit of laughter, watching the whole scene from Harry's side.

"Do you uh… well, do you need any help with luggage? Or a ride to the airport, or anything, Mr. Potter?" In desperation, Mike just fell back to routine. One of the other clerks, overhearing their exchange, discreetly went for a telephone to call the manager. It was fair to say that this new development came completely without warning. Within minutes, the manager was at the front desk.

"Mr. Potter," he said smoothly, shaking Harry's hand. "I hope that your… stay with us has been pleasant?"

"I think that if I haven't enjoyed this hotel or its wonderful people that I would have found a different one years ago."

"Of course, of course. Do you have a forwarding address for any correspondence?"

"Not yet," Harry replied. "For now, you can just contact my man of business if there's any message that needs to be relayed. Texas will know how to get in touch with me as well."

"That's just fine, then, sir. I assume you would like your final bill taken care of in the usual manner? **Do** you need any help with any luggage or transportation?"

"We've got that all taken care of." In fact, all their luggage was in Harry's and Hermione's pockets, but that wasn't exactly _sharable_ information.

"And Miss Granger, I trust your short stay with us was satisfactory?" The manager asked, giving her a small bow.

"I don't think I've ever stayed in a better hotel anywhere." It was true, Hermione never really had the _chance_ to stay in hotels, as her job didn't require much travel, and that she could Apparate back to her home every night. Headmistress McGonagall always let her have a guest room at Hogwarts if she wanted to venture into the Forbidden Forest to speak to some magical creature. And even comparing muggle to magical, the Bellagio beat the Leaky Cauldron hands down.

"Well, I am saddened to see you leave, Mr. Potter, but I hope you will take care of yourself. I hope to see you and your lovely friend here sometime in the future."

"You can count on it. I wouldn't dream of using another hotel whenever I come back here."

"Your Firebolt is being brought up from the garage?" The manager stopped them with the question as they turned to walk away. "I only noticed you were wearing your jackets."

"That's right; we called down from the room."

"And here's Hermione's helmet," Texas said, walking up behind all of them. Hermione was surprised to find that he held a helmet in his hand designed to look like Harry's. It seemed the right size for her as well.

"It's… I like it, but… how did you get one so fast?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised what you can find in this town, and how fast it can get done if you know the right people to talk to." Texas looked a little smug as he said this, but Harry just laughed.

"Oh, c'mon Texas, you know that I started getting that helmet made right after we came back from L.A. the first time. You just picked it up." Hermione had to laugh as Texas' face fell into a mock pout.

"You coulda least've tried to let me impress her." He tried to sound serious, but Hermione was too busy giggling to believe him. "Aw, here you go, 'Mione," he said, finally giving in to a chuckle.

"Well, I guess that's it, then." Harry suddenly seemed hesitant to leave. Hermione put an arm inside his, grabbing his hand.

"You know we can come visit all the time. I just guess your poker night is going to involve flying to Vegas once in awhile instead of having a bunch of guys over drinking but… er, beer."

As if on cue, they heard the Firebolt rev once in front of the doors, ready to go. The manager watched the three walk off, wondering again where their luggage was. The last two days were certainly interesting when dealing with Harry. There were all sorts of puzzle pieces about the man that the manager would now have fun trying to figure out.

* * *

"We'll contact you when we're back in Britain, Texas. Just to let you know that my portkey didn't send us to Antarctica by mistake." Harry and Hermione were on the bike, helmets on, ready to go.

"You might want to give me some time to make it back to my apartment first," Texas said. "I know it won't take but a few minutes with your driving that thing to get out to empty desert."

"Oh, I'll have to go slower than usual, to make sure Hermione doesn't fall off. Just like the other day heading to L.A. Did you know that I stayed under 170?"

Texas gave a mock gasp of horror and turned to Hermione. "Oh, hell. You've got him whipped already!" Hermione didn't bother to respond with words, and just smacked Texas in the chest.

"See you around, Texas." Harry gunned the bike and took off.

"You can go full speed if you want," Hermione said, even though she knew Harry wouldn't hear her through the helmets and the roar of the wind. "It'll just give me an excuse to hold on tighter."

"Really?" Harry's voice sounded in her ear, surprising her so much that she almost let go. "You're going to need to hold on _real _tight then!" Hermione gave a squeal of shock and grabbed him as tight as she could as the bike stopped purring and positively roared. The strip blurred by and she could only barely make out the sign informing her that she was once again leaving Las Vegas.

* * *

Five minutes later, Harry stopped the bike on an old dirt road branching off from the highway. Though the road was near all the other cars entering and leaving the city, they were blocked from view by a small hill. Hermione got off the Firebolt, standing on very shaky legs.

"Just what did you do to let us hear each other?" She tried to sound as stern as Professor McGonagall at her worst, but was afraid that Harry knew she somewhat enjoyed the ride, and would call her bluff. Harry was too worried about pissing her off, though.

"I'm sorry, I have miniature two-way radios in these helmets. I guess I forgot to tell you. I should have realized you were just talking to yourself." Hermione folded under Harry's stricken expression and tried to reassure him.

"That's ok, really. I just wasn't expecting to be overheard or the speed. At least I got to hold on tight," she finished with a slight grin.

"Yeah. I think you might have cracked a rib or two." Harry sported a mock grimace as he wrapped his arms around his torso. Hermione just laughed and swatted the back of his head. "So, portkey to Grimmald Place?" he asked.

"Actually, it would probably be better if I made the portkey," she said. "It's been so long since you've been there, it could cause a problem with the casting. I've only been away from home for a few days. We could portkey to my place first and then Apparate to the Black House."

"Sounds good, Miss Granger. You are aware that if something goes wrong, I get to say, 'I told you so?'"

Hermione smirked at Harry's tease. "Mr. Potter, if something goes wrong, I'll make sure to remove your vocal chords so you can't ever say those words. Now shrink your bike."

Laughing, Harry did as told and put the Hot Wheel sized motorcycle in one of his pockets. He decided to do the thoughtful thing and shrunk both helmets as well.

"Look at that, I'm so close to having you trained already," she said sweetly. Harry mock glared as she pulled out a casino chip she filched from his room and cast the _Portus_ spell. "Ok, grab the chip."

Instead, Harry grabbed her waist and pulled her in for a tight hug. He nibbled on her ear and whispered, "Guess I'm not so trained if I can't follow a simple instruction like that." His hand closed over hers holding the chip and Hermione felt a delightful shiver ripple through her body as the portkey activated, drawing them out of the desert.

* * *

The first thing Harry noticed about Hermione's house was the shelves of books. The room they landed in was filled from floor to ceiling with enough books to stock a small town library. He noticed a comfortable looking recliner and a free-standing lamp occupying one of the corners of the room, but it was empty besides that. And them.

"This… this is where I keep most of my books." Hermione explained unnecessarily.

"Wait, what? _Most_ of your books? You mean you have more than all this?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, I like to read, you know that. And I've always liked buying the books myself rather than going to a library. I just end up keeping them."

"And so meticulously organized," Harry teased. Walking around, he noticed labels on the shelves denoting "Non-Fiction," "Romance," "Fantasy," and others. "Hold on a second. You put _this _book in the fantasy section?" Harry held up the book in question, breaking out laughing.

Hermione saw the book he was holding up and started laughing also. "Don't you think it's appropriate for us?"

"I suppose so," Harry said, still chuckling as he put _All You Wanted to Know about Physics, But Were Afraid to Ask _back on the shelf. He kept browsing, trying to get a feel for how his new girlfriend had been spending the last nine years.

"Hermione, the romance section seems to be larger than most of the other categories." As an example, Harry pulled out a copy of _The Black Dog and the Grey Wolf Or, The Further Adventures of Samuel and Allison_ by Valentina Jett.

Hermione suddenly found a shelf opposite Harry very interesting. "I just um, like, the stories. She turned around and saw Harry smirking. "Alright! I think we've spent enough time in here!" She rushed over and grabbed his arm, dragging him out of her library.

Right into her bedroom.

In her rush, she had forgotten what room the door led to. Harry raised an eyebrow. "So eager, 'Mione? I guess you really like those romance novels, huh?"

Hermione was beginning to worry that her face was going to permanently stay red around Harry. And just last night, _she_ was the one in control. How had he managed to tease her so effectively? _Well, _she thought, _two can play at that game._

"Oh, Harry," she said, lowering her voice to a vibrating purr. "Don't you know? It wasn't the romance novel." She pushed him on the bed, climbing on top of him. She pinned his arms above his head and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "It was the physics textbook." With that, she started nibbling on his ear, feeling him respond.

Harry wasn't able to move any part of his body more than a few inches. Hermione had him pinned down pretty well. Not that he was necessarily complaining right now. He almost started laughing when she mentioned the physics book, but it was cut off in his throat as soon as she began playing with his ear. He started squirming, more as an automatic response than any real attempt to get away.

For Hermione, "Plan A" was to get Harry back for the teasing, but considering all the fun she was having, a "Plan B" was starting to form in her mind, one that she felt would reward Harry a lot more than he deserved. Still, bearing in mind the rewards _she_ would get from Plan B, it was starting to seem a very viable option. It took all her willpower to stick to Plan A.

With one last kiss, she let go of his hands and jumped off the bed, leaving Harry just lying there, confused. He didn't even move his hands from where they had been grabbing onto the headboard.

"Um, Hermione?"

She struggled to keep a straight face as she straightened her clothes and hair. "Ron should just be finishing his last class for the day. I don't care about our history; you need to go let him know you're back before he hears it from someone else."

Harry just stared. She tried, she really did, but she couldn't keep her lips from twitching up into a smirk. Harry let out a long groan that turned into a laugh at the finish.

"Tease me about my books again, mister. I just dare you," she said as he got up off the bed.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry replied. "I'm going to need to take a shower before we go. A cold one."

"But a cold shower isn't half as much fun to share." Hermione used her best pout and puppy-dog eyes, not exactly the best considering how little she usually cared about such tactics. It seemed to work pretty well, as she could see the desire in Harry's eyes as he stared at her. Finally he turned away. She heard him mutter as he walked away,

"Forget the cold shower; I'm just going to fill the bathtub with ice."

* * *

A/N: Couple of acknowledgements to start off. The idea of the Physics textbook in a fantasy section. That comes from an online comic I like to read, called "Order of the Stick." You can find it at www dot giantitp dot com. The idea actually comes from a shirt in his store based on a storyline he did for a paper book that I haven't had a chance to read. The wizard of the group is ranting about how powerful he/she is (No one knows the gender as the wizard is an elf, it's part of the running gag), and that's one of the lines, "I shelf physics textbooks in the fiction section of my personal library. Ever since I saw that quote, I knew Hermione had one of those books in her library, in the same place.

Also, if you're a huge fanfic fan like me, you might recognize Valentina Jett from "whydoyouneedtoknow"s stories. Without trying to ruin the surprise if you haven't read her amazing alternate universe for Harry and the Pride and Pack, I just have to say that the Person who is Valentina Jett in her stories is _**NOT**_ the person in my story. I just used one of the books she references as written by Miss Jett.

Those are the influences that I intentionally allowed into my story. If I've read a story and a plot bunny sticks with me, without knowing the correct credit, I apologize. I'm not intentionally stealing any ideas, except those of J.K. Rowling, of course, lol.

Like I said, I hope to have chapter 13 up soon. I've already started working on it, and I'm looking forward to writing quite a bit of it.

harry'n'mione4ever: The magical NAMBLA, I made up. The NAMBLA that Harry and Texas laugh about is sadly a real organization. Well, for the most part, it's defunct webpages and anonymous posters that eventually get caught by the police with a few gigs of child porn on their hard drive.

jabarber69: We'll be finding out about Dobby and Grimmauld place in a chapter or two.

The-Resident: I hope this update is a bit quicker, and my next update also.

SwishAndFlick31: There is one thing that's keeping them from going all the way. It's the same thing for both of them, even though they don't want to admit it, not even to themselves. They'll figure it out soon.

Falcoren: I haven't read any poker fanfics, and I have to be honest. I thought that poker was going to be a bit more involved with this story, but with some of the ideas that keep popping up in me head for what comes next, I'm afraid that poker is just going to be another skill of Harry's that he doesn't use very often.

alexzangel: I've been off EQ for years now, it's never been installed in this computer, and never going to be. Don't get me wrong, I loved the game, but in my mind, it's over.

Evilclone: I have to be honest, I've been mildly sick since I came back from Iraq, and hadn't felt like writing very much, but when I was trying to write chapter 11, I had about 5 different ideas for the first paragraph and none of them were working. They included Harry, Texas and Hermione driving back to the hotel to confront Draco, Draco waking up and escaping, the hotel manager wondering why they were coming into the hotel when none of the security reported them leaving. Nothing seemed to work at all, so I tried a different approach, with Harry talking to the cops. They obviously had to be magical cops, so I spent a few hours trying to think of a good "Rowling-esque" acronym. I think my acronym might be a little bit dirtier than anything she would come up with, but it was just so funny, I knew that was going to be the start of the chapter. After that, everything fell into place.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I apologize for the incredibly long update time. But as I've said in my Yahoo Group recently, I'm more easily distracted than an ADHD Ferret with a cocaine overdose. (Not that I've given cocaine to ferrets... more than once... or twice...). Oh yeah, this is an early Mother's Day / Anniversary gift, mom. Hope you enjoy :)**  
**

* * *

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter 13**

"Dammit!" Ron had _just_ settled into his easy chair when someone knocked on his door. Today was Thursday and Lavender always took the kids shopping on Thursdays. This was one of the few times of his week that he had to himself, and most people knew not to interrupt him. He loved his wife and kids, and he loved teaching more than he had ever though he would. If he wanted to be honest, his money would have been on Hermione ending up teaching at Hogwarts, not him. This was one of the few jobs left to him after his accident in Italy, but he was glad he took this job rather than accept his father's invitation to join him at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department. But this, _this _was his alone time, dammit!

Groaning, he lifted himself out of the chair, balancing on one leg as he groped for his cane. Unlike some former members of the wizarding elite society, Ron's cane was more useful than ornamental. Even the best medi-wizards in the world had been unable to heal his leg completely after the training accident in Italy. In fact, it had taken almost a year of intermittent healings until he was able to finally walk again, and always with the cane.

He wasn't even halfway to the door when the person started knocking again. "Hold on!" he shouted. Losing his patience, he pulled out his wand and motioned the door open. He was halfway through a spell he had designed to give the target a nasty headache while locking all the muscles in a simulation of rigor mortis when he noticed the familiar mop of hair. Of course, he was so fast in casting spells that he wasn't able to pull up in time. Ron almost didn't feel the pain in his leg as he rushed to the porch to see Harry Potter lying on the ground, muscles locked stiff as a board, a grimace on his face.

"Hey Ron, got any aspirin?"

* * *

"_Well, that was an interesting spell," _Harry thought. He'd never heard of a spell that resembled a _Petrificus Totalus_ from the neck down, with a headache to boot. Allowing the victim to speak, though with a blinding pain in his brain had to be an effective questioning tool. Maybe Ron could teach him the spell, after some Aspirin of course.

"Harry!" Ron shouted, adding to the migraine. He quickly cancelled the spell, and helped Harry to his feet. He grabbed Harry in a fierce bear hug that threatened to require a visit to a chiropractor.

"Holy… I mean, what the… how long have you been back? Where the hell have you been? Does anyone else know?" Ron wasn't even giving Harry the chance to answer any of the questions he was bombarding his friend with.

"Easy, Ron, calm down," Harry said, laughing at the barrage of questions. "I just got in a few hours ago, and you're the first person I've told that I'm back in England."

"Really? I'm the first you've seen? You haven't seen Ginny?" Ron didn't know if Harry was still in love with Ginny, but he didn't really know how to break the news that Ginny was married to Colin Creevy. Instead, Harry just looked at him, almost sadly.

"Why would I go to Ginny first?" Ron just shook his head.

"I don't know, I guess I've never believed it would be over between you two."

"Even when I got so mad at her my last birthday party that I kicked _everyone_ out of the house?"

"I guess I just figured you would get over it. You two seemed such a fairy tale match."

Harry snorted. "A fairy-tale? I ignored her for 5 years, jealously watched her snog other boys for a few months, got a chance to snog her for a few months, then ignored her for almost another year, then all but told her to piss off every time she tried to help me. Have you ever _read_ any fairy tales?"

Ron couldn't help himself. "Do you mean ones that humans have written, or the actual fairies' tales? Because the fairies don't seem to like humans that much, magical _or_ muggle."

"You git," Harry said, laughing. "Speaking of fairy-tale romances, though, when is Hermione going to show up?" It was no coincidence that he waited until Ron had stopped laughing and was taking a sip of his drink before Harry asked that question.

Ron started choking, realizing that Harry had _no_ idea that he and Hermione broke up, and more than that, _married_ to Lavender Brown. He tried to catch his breath and come up with some way to inform Harry of that little fact. The sound of the front door opening guaranteed a stunning revelation.

"Won-won! I'm home!" Lavender's voice echoed from the front hall into the parlor. Harry just barely managed to keep from laughing, and somehow managed to fake a look of shock.

"In the parlor, luv. We have company," Ron replied, his mind racing to try to find some way to explain to Harry.

"Company? Why didn't you tell me we were going to…" Lavender's voice was drowned out as two children's voices rang out.

"Won-won, Won-won!" The two kids, both with fiery red hair, burst into the parlor, jumping up in Ron's lap to smother him with hugs. Ron sighed in exasperation.

"Can't you kids call me 'dad'?"

The little girl shook her head. "Mommy says it's ok."

Ron gave a pleading look to Harry, who was having trouble holding the laughter in. He just looked at Ron and shrugged as if to say, _"Kids, what can you expect?"_

"Melinda, Justin, I want you to meet somebody." He turned the kids around in his lap. "This is…" and was interrupted by a wordless shriek from Melinda. The two kids saw the most famous face in the wizarding world. Justin joined in the yelling and together, the two kids shot out of Ron's lap and bolted out of the room, running around their mother as she walked into the room.

"What's all that fuss about?" she asked, bending down to give Ron a kiss. "And why didn't you tell me you were going to have company?"

"I didn't exactly know he was coming," Ron protested. "Luv, Harry's back."

"What?" She asked, turning her head. Lavender caught sight of the piercing green eyes, and the famous scar. She fainted dead away in her husband's arms. Ron gave Harry a shrug.

"I married Lavender," he said simply.

* * *

It took a few minutes to calm Lavender down and assure her that Harry was indeed, real (and not evil). He looked so different from what she remembered before he had disappeared. He also seemed much calmer, more sure of himself, more relaxed than the troubled boy who defeated Voldemort. Wherever he had been, it had been good for him. But why had he come back now? After all this time? She broke away from her thoughts as she realized that Ron had just asked that very question. 

"Malfoy found me." Harry smirked as Ron jumped out of his chair, his wand already drawn.

"What?! Where is he? What happened?" Ron was ready to tear off to Malfoy Manor until Lavender grabbed his arm, pulling him back to his seat.

"Harry seems to be okay, so don't go rushing off." _It's just like Harry, _she thought. _Not even five minutes back, and he's trying to get Ron killed._ She had never admitted it to anyone, but her worst fear was Harry coming back and drawing Ron away from her. She knew how close they were with Hermione, and with the three of them back together again, she knew Ron would fall for Hermione again. She couldn't help but hate Harry, just a little.

As she looked at Harry, though, she saw his eyes, noticing for the first time that he wasn't wearing glasses. Without any shields, they seemed to pierce through to the core of her being. She somehow _knew_ that Harry realized what she was thinking. He gave her a small sad smile, and a tiny shake of his head.

"I'm fine, Ron. Malfoy is currently in custody, but I expect him to be freed soon. He managed to track me down, and kidnapped a friend of mine."

Only Lavender caught the smallest of inflections on the word 'friend.' Harry wasn't telling the whole story, but just enough to be the truth. _Must be something he learned from Dumbledore._

"I managed to fight back, but I got stunned in the process or I wouldn't have involved any authorities. I figured I might as well come back before Malfoy starts spreading tales. It would be better to walk into the limelight instead of being pushed. Anyways, he'll probably be back in England within a day or two, and people will know that I'm still around."

"Wait… back in England?" Ron asked.

"Well, it should be pretty obvious that I've been outside the country the whole time, Ron." Ron looked a little sheepish when Harry pointed that out.

"But where were you, then?" Lavender wanted to know.

"I was in America… the magical community in California." Harry hesitated the slightest bit, as if reluctant to reveal his hiding spot.

"Of course," Ron said, "That seems to make sense. A lot of displaced citizens settled there fleeing from You-Know…" Ron broke off as Harry glared. "Fine, _Voldemort_."

Lavender gave a little gasp, then shrank a little as Harry turned his stare in her direction.

* * *

"_VOLDEMORT!" A female shriek cut through the whispered conversations filling the Great Hall._

_The Great Hall gave a collective shriek as the school panicked. The seventh years vainly tried to gather the first years into a group for accountability; the fifth and sixth years were trying to form some semblance of a defense, but were mainly bumping into each other in the panic and confusion._

"_SILENCE!" This time, a male voice cut through the bedlam – Harry's voice. The whole school froze and turned to face The-Boy-Who-Lived. "It's just a name, people. I told you this before." Harry pulled out his wand, copying Voldemort's own spell, tracing letters in fire into the air. "'I am Lord Voldemort' is just an anagram of 'Tom Marvolo Riddle.' Be scared of the person. Be scared of his expertise, his power, his skill. But never, NEVER, be scared of a name._

_For the whole month before Harry, Ron and Hermione left school permanently to chase Voldemort and his followers, they would stage random tests: calling his name out, inserting the name into conversation. Harry was determined to destroy the fear of a ridiculous name, no matter what._

* * *

And it seemed that he still held the scorn for people fearing the name that he always did. Caught in the memory, Lavender almost missed the next question Ron asked. 

"So, are you going to tell… Hermione next?" She gave a small shudder and moved in closer to her husband. It was irrational, she knew, but she hated that woman. She hated the name, she hated hearing Ron even mention the name, she was scared. She had always had a crush on Ron, and hated herself for it. All through school, she had tried to ignore it; she even dated almost every other boy in their class to try to take her mind of Ron. She would never have believed, watching him and Hermione, that she would ever have her chance.

Even in sixth year, she knew Ron was using her to make Hermione jealous, but at the time, she didn't care. When she got a call that night from a friend who worked at the restaurant that Ron and Hermione had broken up, she almost hung up, knowing they would probably work it out, and her hopes would have plummeted once again.

Now, even after the years they had spent together, even with two kids, she had an irrational fear that she would lose Ron to the other woman.

"No," Harry said with a small smile. "I don't think I'll be telling her I'm back."

Ron and Lavender both gasped. For Harry not to tell Hermione was unthinkable. They were both dumbstruck. Ron tried to say something, but Lavender just gaped.

"I… I… I think she'd want to know!" Ron finally managed to get out. Even his wife had the nod at the obvious remark.

"But what do you expect me to do?" Harry replied, sounding exasperated. "Just grab a handful of Floo powder, head to her fireplace and announce, 'Hermione! I'm back?!'" He paused for a second. "You know, that's actually a good idea. Get the news over with quick, like pulling a band-aid, right?"

Ron didn't even have time to wonder what a band-aid was, as Harry stood up and walked over to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of powder. "You don't mind, do you?" He asked, almost as an afterthought. Hearing no objections, he threw the powder into the fireplace.

"Hermione Granger!" The fire flared bright green and Harry stepped on through. Lavender didn't even admonish her husband for following, as she was too busy walking through herself. She had to see how this turned out.

* * *

Hermione heard the small buzzing sound she had set up to alert her of Floo travel. _That must be Harry,_ she thought, wondering how Ron and Lavender reacted to his return. She was fairly sure that Harry had decided not to tell them of their relationship, wanting to surprise the two of them. That worried her a little. 

Even having moved on from Ron years ago, she felt a little nervous with the part Harry wanted her to play, without even asking, in front of him. She figured that she shouldn't be so worried, but it almost felt to her that Harry would be rubbing it in. If not for how well she knew Harry, she would think that was exactly what he was doing.

However, as the son, godson, and pupil of the Marauders, he would view this as just a prank. A pretty big prank… just slightly on the other side of cruel, but she knew he honestly believed it wouldn't hurt anyone in the long run. In fact, she realized, it might even give Lavender some peace. She always knew that Lavender was scared of Ron's previous relationship, and there were few times over the past years that she couldn't honestly say she would have turned him down if he asked her back.

This afternoon would prove to Ron's wife once and for all that Hermione had moved on, that there was no future for Harry's two best friends together.

"Hermione! I'm home!" Before she could answer, she heard two more buzzing noises, Ron and Lavender coming through the fireplace. Walking into the living room, she saw Harry leaning against the wall, Ron and Lavender to the side, obviously a bit uncomfortable.

"Hello, Harry. Back already?" Ron's jaw dropped.

"Yeah, I guess his alone time isn't very long. Or Lavender came back early today." Harry shrugged, seemingly bored, but Hermione caught the glint in his eye. Lavender, surprisingly figured it out first.

"You're the one who found him! Not Malfoy!" She had no idea how she knew this, but she was absolutely sure it was true. Hermione started to say something, but Harry just shrugged.

"Actually, she found Hedwig. Hedwig brought her to Texas. Then she found me."

"Texas?" Ron was confused. "I thought you said California."

"Yeah, I lied. I was actually in Nevada, Las Vegas to be exact."

"But you just said you were in Texas!"

"No, I said Hedwig took Hermione to Texas."

"But that's not Nevada!"

"I never said it was," Harry smirked. "Texas was in Nevada."

Hermione couldn't help laughing. "That's not fair, Harry. Stop trying to confuse them."

"Fine," Harry conceded, suppressing his merriment. "It's like this…"

* * *

"So that's the whole story, huh?" Ron leaned back, almost not believing what he'd heard. 

"Actually, there is one more thing," Harry admitted, looking at Hermione. She gave a small nod, then stood up and walked over to sit next to him, grabbing his hand. Lavender had almost known for certain before they did that. Harry was unreadable, but Hermione had seemed to be hiding something through the whole story.

"We really weren't sure how to tell you. There's no easy way." Hermione felt naked under Ron's incredulous gaze. She was expecting him to shout, to get angry, to throw something. Actually, she really had no idea how he would react.

Ron's stare held Harry frozen. The man who had destroyed Voldemort was worried about his best friend's approval for whom he dated. He honestly wasn't sure what he would do if Ron got mad. As angry as he had been at how Ron treated Hermione, Harry had to admit that nothing would have happened between him and Hermione if not for Ron's past actions.

Ron knew that too. He tried desperately to get past the shock. He'd always known that he wasn't completely over Hermione, no matter how much he now loved Lavender. And he'd always been worried about how alone she had been. He knew it was mostly his fault, but he didn't see anything he could do about it, no matter how much he felt like a coward for not confronting the issue. And, knowing he had to be honest with himself, if not himself, could he _really_ think of anyone better for Hermione than Harry? He started to smile, then realized the whole room seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

"Really?" he asked. Harry gave a small nod. "I guess what happened in Vegas didn't stay in Vegas, then, huh?" Harry started laughing, but Ron reached over and grabbed him in a bear hug. He let go of Harry and grabbed Hermione for a hug as well.

Looking at the two of them, Lavender suddenly realized that she wasn't the least bit worried about Ron hugging his friend. Not anymore. Now maybe she could relax a little, and enjoy her life with Ron and the kids more…

"The kids!" she gasped. "Oh my god! We left them alone!" She started to head back to the fireplace, but Ron grabbed her hand.

"Relax," Ron said. "Winky wouldn't let anything happen." Winky, right. Lavender wilted with relief. Their house elf. Not only had she run off, completely forgetting about her kids, but she had even forgotten about the house elf.

"I still want to check on them," she said, anyways. Ron nodded and let go.

"We still have a lot to talk about," he said, moving towards the fireplace.

"Yes, we do." Something in Harry's voice gave him an involuntary shiver. He knew he would have to explain himself to Harry later, and he wasn't looking forward to admitting what a fool he'd been. Even Lavender faltered a second before throwing the floo powder in the fireplace.

Even Harry worried himself. He hugged Hermione tighter, as if to remind himself that she had forgiven Ron, and he would need to eventually. When they were alone again, Hermione pushed him away.

"You couldn't at least give him some warning we're together now? What if he had gone completely mental?"

"You don't think I could protect myself?" Harry sounded more amused than angry.

"I think you've used almost no magic for nine years while Ron has been _teaching_ Defense Against the Dark Arts for three! You might have more power, but he is much more knowledgeable on the subject!"

Harry winced. He had to agree, given the spell Ron had surprised him with on the front porch. "Ok, you're right. It was pretty stupid of me." She gave him a soft punch in the stomach as he kissed the top of her head.

"Damn straight it was," she said, as they settled back on the couch, content to just hold each other for the moment.

"So…" he started to say.

"Mhmm?" She murmured, settling closer.

"There is, um… one other… thing, I um, need to do." As he started talking, Hermione had started running her hand up and down his chest.

"Really? What's that?" She asked, unbuttoning the bottom button of his shirt.

"It's… I, uh… Well." As he talked, she kept unbuttoning his shirt, her other hand running across his bare chest.

"That sounds important," she cooed, now straddling his lap. Every button was undone except for the top. Both hands were inside his shirt, running up and down his skin. She started to kiss down his jaw and neck, until she got to the top button, beginning to work it undone with her teeth.

"It is," he squeaked, weakly. "I, uh, oh god," he said, as Hermione teased one of his nipples with her teeth.

"No, seriously," she said all of a sudden, moving off from on top of him. "What do you need to do?" Harry just stared at the empty space in his arms that, one second ago, had been a beautiful woman teasing his body.

"Well, first," he glared. "I need to let a blood flow problem take care of itself." He waited for Hermione to stop giggling. "Then I need to check on the House of Black, make sure everything is ok."

"You might want to button your shirt first," Hermione innocently remarked. "It seems to have come undone."

"Imagine that," came the sarcastic reply. He stood up, buttoning his shirt up, but not fast enough.

"I don't see _any_ problem with _that_ blood flow," she smirked.

Harry just blushed as he finished with the last button.

"Ready to go?" Hermione asked. "Of course I'm coming with you," she said before he could say anything. "Do you really think I'm going to let you go off alone again?"

"Fine," he sighed. "Let's go." He grabbed Hermione in his arms, concentrated on 12 Grimmauld Place and disappeared…

And reappeared with his eyes two inches away from a long thin piece of wood pointed directly at his face. He distantly heard Hermione gasp.

"Well, well, well. Look who's home," a familiar voice drawled…

* * *

A/N: Yeah, it's a cliff hanger. But, knowing what I do about the next chapter, I seriously hope I can write and post before your arms get tired. I will give you a top secret hint: Harry manages to survive (**SHOCK!**). I really hate leaving a cliffhanger when I don't have the next chapter written and ready to be reviewed and posted, but I'll probably just write a shorter chapter next time to satisfy my raving fans. 

All Poker Fans: I really wish we could see more of Harry playing poker, but I have to be honest and say that the story took a left turn at Alberquerque and went in a completely different direction than I originally thought it would.

Here is one review I got after I posted Chapter 12... "Iraq isn't anything close to hell. I have a friend thats a marine and he says boot camp is harder than Iraq."

korrd, if you happen to read this, at least. Please understand that Boot Camp and Iraq are two completely different experiences. Your 'friend' is a) a Marine, which leads me to guess that he is b) probably not very smart. Unless you have experienced both locations and events yourself, please don't try to tell me what they are or are not like. This might come as a shock to you, but different people have different experiences in Iraq. That's what some of my friends have minor cases of PTSD whereas I am completely fine. If you can't think before you type, please, break your keyboard and sterilize yourself, preferably with a rusty knife.

People from the Living with Danger group: I really like the Dangerverse. Although my attempts at a story are nowhere near as thought out, I liked being able to pay a small tribute to whydoyouneedtoknow by using Valentina Jett. Like I said, though, it's not the same person as from the Dangerverse. I promise.

Harry isn't going to rub anything in. He knows that it's partly his fault he's been gone so long. The only thing he really has to worry about is scolding Ron for the way he treated Hermione. Other than that, there are going to be a lot of reunions, and a few surprises.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **The army's been keeping me pretty busy past month or so, but I've been writing bits and pieces of this chapter when I've had the opportunityI'm sorry I left the cliffhanger for so long, especially when I started getting reviews wondering who it was. I'm not very happy with the end part of this chapter. I feel that Hermione jumps around too many different subjects too quickly, but I think in the same manner, and often find myself on a very different subject than what I started thinking about.

I know more of what's coming in this story, but I'm not exactly sure what's coming **next**. I'll probably be trying a couple different ideas for the next chapter, so don't expect an update any time soon, unless I'm lucky enough to hit on an idea and see that it works pretty well. More notes about the chapter and reviews down at the bottom.

* * *

**Royal Flush Chapter 14**

"Well, well, well, look who's finally back," a familiar voice drawled. For a second, Harry was only able to focus on the end of the wand, pointed straight between his eyes. The tip was much too close for him to be able to dodge a spell. He barely noticed the wispy silver blond hairs connected to the owner of the wand. Then the wand was moved away from his head as the owner grabbed him in a fierce hug.

"Harry!" Tonks cried. "I almost didn't believe it when Ron called us. Remus!" Tonks turned and called up the stairs. "He's here!"

Harry's heart started beating again.

"I didn't expect anyone to be at the house right now," he said, returning her hug.

"You haven't been paying any attention to the calendar anymore, then." Harry turned to the source of the voice at the top of the stairs. Remus Lupin stood on shaky legs, holding the handrail for support as he slowly made his way down the stairs.

"That's right," Hermione realized. "Last night was the full moon."

"And the spot Harry built for me in the basement is still one of the most secure places for me during my transformations." Despite his frail appearance, the hug Remus gave Harry was enthusiastic. "Without a qualified Potions Master to brew up wolfsbane on a regular basis, I try to make sure lycanthropes without access to safer havens have first dibs on the supplies we do get."

"Why isn't Slughorn brewing the wolfsbane anymore?"

"He is, Harry." Remus sighed. "The problem is that lycanthropy infections are spreading faster than they used to. Without a master to keep him in check, Fenrir is infecting more innocents than we can usually detect. Most families keep silent about his attacks, wanting to try to hide the problem. And with the prejudice in the wizarding world, I really can't blame them." He shuffled to the couch. "But when their precautions fail, and a werewolf gets out during the full moon, they infect another person, and it becomes a big chain reaction."

"That's part of the reason the work I'm attempting on the regulations are so important," Hermione explained. "If we can get rid of the narrow minded viewpoints about werewolves, people might not be so scared to admit to the problem and get the care they need."

"What about some intermediate measures until that happens?" Harry asked. "Like, say, if I were able to build holding cells to keep the werewolf comfortable during the night of the full moon, and guarantee that they won't harm anyone, or be harmed themselves, could we get more sufferers to turn themselves in?"

"Hmm… well, with the great Harry Potter an advocate for the lycanthropes, I think some might risk the social stigma that comes with being 'discovered.' The main problem right now is still the fact that werewolves are still not allowed to hold down any but the most dangerous jobs. McGonagall even tried to re-hire me once before Ron took over, but was overturned by the Board of Directors."

Harry's face turned darker the more Remus and Hermione took turns explaining the werewolf plight.

"It's not all bad," Hermione hastily tried to explain. "Ever since Remus was outed, he's been working at changing society's notions of werewolves. Not a single person from his classes at Hogwarts says anything bad about him. Neville goes out of his way to hire werewolves to work in his greenhouses, giving them special time off during the full moon. Luna always pays for freelance work done by lycanthropes for the Quibbler, something the Daily Prophet refuses to do. The unofficial DA (Harry raised his eyebrows at that) all do their best to give a voice to the werewolves, to help them out. The problem is, we're one generation trying to change a whole society."

Harry had calmed down a little as she talked, but now looked curious. "What exactly is the unofficial DA?"

"Well, it's um…" Hermione stammered. "I guess it's just a bunch of us who get together once in awhile to keep in touch. People who remember the real you, not the stories the Daily Prophet's been trying to tell. We also brush up on our Defense skills, just in case, you know, another Dark Lord tries to rise."

"According to the Prophet, aren't _I_ supposed to be the next Dark Lord?" Harry asked with a grin. Hermione nodded. "Well, I hope the rest of the DA doesn't use the same tactics you've been using on me."

"Why?" Hermione asked. "Did Voldemort turn evil from taking too many cold showers?"

"I don't know," Harry said with a grin. "But do you really want to take the chance?"

"Harry," Remus said carefully, trying not to break into laughter. "Is there something you forgot to tell us?" Tonks had a hand in front of her mouth, her body shaking as she suppressed her giggles.

"You mean that Hermione is a tease?" Harry asked innocently. "OW!" Hermione had smacked him in the back of the head, while trying not to laugh herself. "Okay, the truth is – "

Harry was interrupted as he suddenly went flying forward, impacted from behind by a flying object.

"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby's familiar voice cut through the air. "Dobby was not knowing that Harry Potter, sir, would be coming today, or Dobby would never have been leaving the house. Oh, Bad Dobby!"

Harry felt the weight leave his back as Dobby ran over to the coffee table and started beating his head against one of the legs.

"Oh, Dobby is leaving the house all dirty, and Harry Potter, sir, is standing around, and no food is prepared for Harry Potter, sir, and his guests. Dobby is a bad house elf!" Dobby wailed the last part, and was about to crack his head against the leg when he felt himself lifted off the floor.

"Dobby," Harry said. "What's the first rule I gave you about working in this house."

"Dobby is not to be punishing himself no matter what," the house elf said in a small voice.

"Right. But I guess since I've been gone for nine years, you don't have to obey my rules anymore?"

Dobby gasped. "Oh, no, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby would never break the rules!" Dobby gave another gasp as he realized that he just _had_ broken the rules. "Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will iron his hands tonight!" Dobby looked pleased at the prospect.

Harry shot him down, however. "No, Dobby. If you really need punishment, _I'll_ set the forfeit." Hermione looked angry at those last words, but Dobby looked horrified.

"Oh, no, Harry Potter, sir. Not again. Dobby hates that punishment. Dobby would rather iron his hands than _that._"

"Harry Potter! Just what are you proposing that has poor Dobby so frightened." Harry decided he had better clarify before Hermione drew her wand.

"That's right, Dobby. You're not allowed to clean _anything_, or do any other housework, for one whole day." Dobby gave a pitiful whine at the pronouncement.

"Is Harry Potter, sir, sure Dobby can not just iron his fingers?" Dobby seemed hopeful that Harry would demote the sentence, but he firmly shook his head, trying to hide the small smile.

"I'm sure, Dobby. Now," he said, carrying the house elf to a lazy chair. "You have to stay there and rest while _I_ get to cook supper."

As soon as his back was turned, Dobby surreptitiously brushed some dirt off the arms of the chair, hoping that wasn't too rebellious. Hermione followed Harry into the kitchen to find him sitting at the long table, laughing silently.

"_That's_ punishment?" She asked dubiously.

"For a house elf? Sure," Harry answered.

"So, all those times during our last year… whenever we were staying here, and Dobby was sitting in a chair or reading a book, you were _punishing_ him for something?"

"I had to, Hermione!" She didn't look very convinced… "There were times he came up to me, _asking_ for a punishment for something or other. At first I just told him not to punish himself, or that he hadn't done anything wrong. But he had it so set into his head that he needed to pay for something he did, that he would punish himself anyways. I got tired of seeing bandages around his fingers or head, so I figured something that wouldn't get him hurt. And besides, I'd hoped that tricking him to read some books would help him out in life."

"Well, I don't know," she said. "It still seems… I don't know, wrong."

"'Mione, he was trying to punish himself for punishing himself when he's not supposed to be punishing himself, especially when he's only punishing himself for punishing himself."

"Now, I think you're just trying to confuse me." But there was a small smile on her face as she accepted Harry's mollification.

"Good," he said. "That means you get to help me with supper. You know, since we don't have a house elf to take care of it."

"You keep making jokes, and I'll revoke your membership with SPEW."

Harry stopped and turned around, a look of astonishment on his face. "You, you actually said 'spew.' You didn't spell it out! You used to get so mad when Ron or I would just say it."

"Well," she said defensively. "I can admit to being a little 'unfortunate' in my acronyms. I'd rather laugh at it instead of cringing."

"At least you didn't come up with the North American Magical Bureau of Legal Authority."

"You never did tell me what was so funny about that."

"There's a reason for that," Harry replied. "I'd rather you keep your innocence."

"My innocence?" Hermione was shocked. "What could be worse than the year we spent on the run fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters? Than watching Lucius die?"

Harry snorted. "Knowing the full meaning of NAMBLA."

* * *

Hermione woke the next morning to the smell of her breakfast reaching her nose from the nightstand by the bed. The empty bed. Harry, Remus, Tonks and Hermione had stayed up last night after dinner. Harry was starting to get tired of repeating his story. He had made the sarcastic comment that he should just take an ad out in the _Prophet_ so people would know what happened. Remus had proposed the serious idea that he give Luna an interview for the Quibbler. That way, Harry could still be talking to his friends, but also letting his story out.

Despite his justifiable distrust of the press, the idea of talking to Luna had merit, so he had thought it over for awhile, as the other three continued the discussion. Afterwards, Hermione suddenly felt exhausted, having changed a large number of time zones once again, this time instantaneously. She didn't have any chance to prevent the jet lag. Harry was just as tired, and by the time they got into bed, they barely had enough energy to take their clothes off.

Yet Harry was already out of bed by the time she woke up, and she knew she almost never slept more than 7 hours at a time. Dobby had broken his restrictions and somehow found clothes for the both of them to wear. She wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he had been to her flat. She had once given him permission to visit any time he wanted (i.e. if he heard something about Harry before she did). She just hoped, that if he had disobeyed Harry, he hadn't punished himself too harshly.

She had just finished dressing and was about to eat when Harry walked in with his own plate of food. Well, "food" might be a loose definition of what he had on his plate. Harry had a towering stack of pancakes that looked as if they were designed by the same architect that was responsible for the Leaning Tower of Pisa. She figured that the syrup was the glue holding the stack together; after all, there was enough syrup to fill two bottles, it seemed. The way Harry carelessly handled the plate, she was surprised that it hadn't fallen over.

He set the plate down on the nightstand, and pulled over a chair. He seemed to discern exactly what she was thinking by looking at her slightly nauseous expression and gave a wide grin.

"Travel makes me hungry."

"So you decide to assault your stomach in retaliation?"

"My stomach views these pancakes as liberators," he said, smugly. Hermione just groaned. She, of course, had been paying attention to current events in the muggle world the past couple of years. But she was surprised to find that Harry had been doing the same, enough to make a joke of it. It was probably better to change the subject.

"You didn't get much sleep last night. You were out of bed before I was even awake enough to notice."

"I got about two hours. About as much as I usually do, maybe a bit more." Harry didn't seem to realize that he had said something important. Hermione stared at her boyfriend, her mind trying to work out this new bit of data she uncovered.

It was common knowledge in the wizard world that the less sleep you needed, the more powerful a wizard you were. It was rumored that Dumbledore slept less than fifteen minutes a night near the very end of his life. Voldemort's supporters used to claim that he never slept, but many believe that he needed at least as much as Dumbledore. Most normal wizards needed at least five hours a night. A sharp curve between normal and powerful. Harry, however, was somewhere in between "normal" and "powerful." He needed much less sleep than the ordinary wizard, but still more than the truly powerful.

He was still young, though. Hermione was pretty sure that now, back in the wizarding world, using magic an a higher basis, he would grow more powerful. She was pretty sure there wasn't another wizard in the world that needed as little sleep as he did. She wondered how little he would need when he fully came into his power.

But Harry didn't know all this. And he would probably be upset at yet another difference between him and his community. It didn't matter that he would never be the same as the rest of the magical folk. He wanted to act normal and have people treat him the same way, not worship or crucify him as they spontaneously decided to. To tell the truth, she was beginning to wonder if she had done the right thing in finding him.

He had seemed happy in Las Vegas, or at least content. Now, he's been dragged into all her problems, and she realized that she'd been wondering _how_ he was going to fix them, when she should have been wondering _if_ he should be worrying about any of them at all! Was it really his responsibility to ensure that werewolves were treated as normal members of society? Wasn't that society's responsibility? Just because it fails doesn't mean that Harry, of all people, should be the one to shoulder the burden. Just because she could do almost nothing about how society treats half-bloods like her doesn't mean that Harry should take up that crusade as well. And yet, the only times something seems to change in the magical world is when a strong wizard or witch defied traditionalists and forced their will on the community.

Wizards are sheep, she decided. So few of them have a dominant personality, that the entire populace will blindly follow the will of a confidant wizard. It explains why so many chose to follow Voldemort during the war, why Harry had such a hard time leading any sort of resistance. For all his excellent ability to lead, he had very little desire. He believed more in personal freedoms than rules and regulations. He could fix the problems plaguing the wizarding community, but it would demolish his normal life. Every minute of every day, he would be in the spotlight, expected to make decisions that affect thousands of people. He wouldn't care that any wrong decision would be quickly forgotten in the people's desperate desire for a shepherd, it would plague him constantly. Hermione wondered if she would have to help him out during a run for Minister of Magic, or help him run away again.

What _had_ the wizarding world done recently to deserve their allegiance? Despite all her hard work, she was still treated as a secretary or worse by most wizards outside her office. She was essentially an outcast from society for the simple reason that she didn't want to have kids, at least not yet. A decision that seems so minor, and would be in a muggle perspective, yet it destroyed her relationship with Ron. Did the wizarding world even _deserve_ to be saved? And if so, from whom? There was no dark lord attempting to cause chaos, no evil that needed vanquishing. The society needed saving from itself. Harry and his friends had done an incomplete job when they destroyed Voldemort, but they weren't ready to finish the job, Hermione had to admit to herself.

Now, though? Do we have a responsibility to the world we grew up in, if none of the people in charge will listen? Would it be better, she wondered, if she and Harry just went back to Vegas? There might come a time when the witches and wizards would be ready to listen and reform. But leaving now would mean abandoning all their friends to a dying social construct. It would be impossible to move everyone. Hermione only spent a couple of days in Vegas, and she had been feeling edgy by the time they left. The electric fields that "itch" anyone with magical potential would be too uncomfortable.

"The community in California?"

"What?" Harry asked. Hermione realized that she had said the last sentence out loud. Harry looked confused, not being a part of her thought process. She wasn't ready to divulge all her concerns just yet, but she didn't want Harry launching a crusade neither of them felt was worth it. He would do it, she knew, simply if he thought that it would benefit his friends, no matter how little he liked the idea. She would have to discuss it with him sooner or later.

"My mind was just wandering," she replied. "I was trying to think of nice vacation spots, since my last got cut a little short."

Harry just looked at her. She wasn't telling the truth, for some reason. That he knew. But he decided he didn't want to push the issue just now. She should have the privacy of her thoughts, at least.

The two of them finished breakfast in silence, just happy to be together for now.

* * *

**A/N: **First off, I'm not exactly sure about werewolf transformations. I **believe** that in the Harry Potter world, that it only happens on the full moon. But I remember the Buffy series where it happens the night before and after also, and I was too lazy to double check to see if follows the same rules. That's why I have the line about the four sitting up and talking late at night the day after the full moon.

I've been excited about using Dobby for a few chapters now, especially Harry's special brand of punishment. For some reason, all fanfic authors I've read (and I'm including me in this when I read over this chapter) have a hard time writing Dobby's dialogue. It always seems like they're trying to hard to make Dobby talk the way JKR does, or they don't try enough. I hope I managed to keep him to a close approximation to the original character.

Jay-F: I hate to tell you this, but I **just** got addicted to World of Warcraft in the past few weeks. My friends at work kept talking about it, and I finally decided I would try out the free fourteen days. I had my subscription set up before the first week was out. The appearing wand is relevant; but still in the background for now. Not many people noticed that it might be a big deal (or at least, they never said anything in the reviews).

Crazy Teddy: Your reviews are great. They make me laugh and think seriously at the same time. I hope I've managed to convince you that Harry has a better spell repetoire than a normal 4th year, even if he hasn't used much magic in this story. And just remember, Harry isn't a hero in America. Voldemort was primarily an English problem, not a world wide problem. At least, that's the vibe I get from reading JKR's books. So defeating him wouldn't exactly endear him to the Americans. Draco was able to go free simply because the American community wasn't exactly thrilled about trying to prosecute a member of an old, rich wizard family based mainly on he-said/she-said evidence. Yes, they have the spell signatures, but for the most part, it was easier to release him back to the British and not worry about it. I'm guessing that the American wizards aren't much more progressive than the English wizards.

Fanfic Guardian: My apologies for the (lack of) length, and the long update times. When I was in Iraq, I wrote out almost 10 chapters before I was able to type out and post any of them online. Now, I'm typing everything, and I have a lot more work to do back in the States.

If anyone is interested, I just found an original work of fiction today at mutales. that I've really enjoyed reading. I have her story on my favorites and look forward to her updates, which I might add, are posted a lot more often than mine.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **So I have to admit that I've had this chapter sitting on my thumb drive for about two or three months. Stuff didn't just feel right, and I was constantly tweaking and making small changes. But I wasn't doing it conisistently. It was on again, off again whenever I felt like it, or the World of Warcraft servers were down. However, I found out that a mailing list I suscribe to (pottersplace3) had a question about this fic, and an answer really quick. Less than an hour or so later, I had three new reviews, and who knows how many more readers. So, for new readers, welcome, and I will probably be as lazy updating the next chapter as I was this one.

I'm actually really flattered that someone had read some of this story, and remembered as much as he did to ask about the fic, and that someone else was so easily able to get the link to the story. If I hadn't been in a hurry, I would have noticed the email earlier today anyways.

* * *

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter 15**

"Subdued" was not usually an adjective one would use to describe Ginny Weasley. However, anyone who did not know her already would think it was a perfect description of the red-haired woman sitting at the table crowded with angry wizards and witches shouting over each other's voices, trying to make their opinions heard.

"What about the last seven…"

"The boy is obviously disturbed!"

"I doubt a fine member of our society…"

"He defeated He-Who-Must…"

A loud bang silenced the room as the wizard at the head of the table used his wand to call for order. The cowed magicians reluctantly took their seats, including one diminutive witch who had actually jumped on top of the table in a vain effort to make her voice heard. As soon as everyone had taken their seats, the leader stood up and began walking around the table.

"Too much of this discussion is irrelevant. All we know is that there was some sort of altercation between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter." His voice took an unexpected edge as he mentioned the famous disappearing wizard, as if he couldn't believe he was actually talking about The Boy Who Lived once more. "We have been ordered by the Ministry to fully investigate the incident and submit recommendations as to any necessary actions that the Ministry should take." A wave of his wand conjured a stack of papers and magical photos on the center of the table. "This is all the paperwork from my colleagues at NAMBLA. Sadly, a good portion of the evidence does not follow our documentary procedures and is invalid for the purpose of our investigation."

Another wave of the wand separated the paperwork into to stacks. One stack took on a shade of red to indicate its inability to help with the investigation. Ginny could see that the entire stack was Harry's and Hermione's story, as well as most of the wand tracking documents indicating which wand cast which spell. On the "valid" stack were Draco's and Crabbe's testimony.

"This is ridiculous!" She blurted out, unable to contain her agitation. Most of the rest of the table looked smug, as if they knew this explosion was inevitable. Indeed, the leader seemed to have been waiting for her to finally say something. His voice took on a positively condescending tone as he addressed her.

"I know, Miss Weasley, how upset you were that we decided that your personal issues made you a less than ideal choice to head the investigation for The Boy Who Disappeared, but you must admit just how suspicious this whole situation is. After seven years, he just happens to be found by one of his best friends, who is then kidnapped by one of his enemies?"

"It's no more unbelievable than rescuing the Sorcerer's Stone, then finding the Chamber of Secrets within a year of each other!" She said angrily.

"Didn't **you** find the Chamber of Secrets?" One member at the table asked snidely. Ginny blushed as her defense backfired on her.

"Fine, what about winning the Tri-Wizard Tournament when he was two years younger than the other contestants?"

"He had help from a Death Eater!"

"Breaking into the Department of Mysteries and dueling Voldemort (gasps from the table as she mentioned the name) and his Death Eaters to a standstill?!" Ginny was now the one standing up, almost yelling. "Hunting down and destroying all the Horcruxes?! Which of **any **of us can say that Harry's life is anywhere close to normal?!"

"Be that as it may," the leader said, "the fact remains that as Aurors, we must conduct a complete investigation into the incident in order to assure society that one of its members is not above the law. We must also remember not to get personally involved, an aspect of our job you seem to be somewhat ignoring for this incident."

Ginny's face was a bright red now. "Then use **all** the evidence!" she spat out, pointing at the invalid stack. "If NAMBLA actually messed up, interview Harry and Hermione and make sure you follow the 'correct' procedures."

"There is another option." The unexpected remark came from the second-in-command. "What if we chose to only label this whole incident as an 'improper duel out of country' and allow the participants the choice to pay a fine or to 'continue' the duel in a proper venue?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes. This was far too detailed for an idea off the top of his head. The head Auror just confirmed her suspicions when he answered.

"That does seem to be a decent solution. It does allow the Auror department to keep from wasting its time on this tiring continuing feud between the Malfoy and Potter houses. What is the normal fine in situations such as this?"

"Approximately 1,000 Galleons."

Ginny looked around at all the heads nodding, as if on cue. She realized that this whole meeting was a setup for her benefit. Nothing she could say or do would make the situation better for her former boyfriend. Even worse, it showed the fact that the entire department had no problems excluding her.

"That sounds like a fair solution," she said half-heartedly. The head Auror smiled as he realized that further persuasion would not be necessary.

"Excellent," he said. "Let's get the proper documents drawn up, then perhaps you would consent to deliver the decision to Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy?"

Despite the phrasing as a question, Ginny knew that was unquestionably an order. She didn't argue, though, realizing the order as a chance to see Harry again. Of course, that also meant she would have to pay a visit to Malfoy Manor and deal with Draco once again. She sighed as she nodded her head, acknowledging her orders.

* * *

Ginny hated the aura around Malfoy Manor that always seemed to dim the sunshine that was so rare already on the British Isles. The hedges that lined the walkway from the Apparation point to the front door were shapeless, yet always seemed to evoke horrible images in Ginny's mind. She was glad that she decided to deliver the verdict to Malfoy first, so she could look forward to seeing Harry again, finally. Despite the gloom of the estate, she couldn't help a little shiver of pleasure that ran through her body at that thought. 

Then she felt guilty as she remembered that Colin would be waiting for her at home tonight. _This isn't fair_ she thought to herself. She was finally getting over Harry Potter, building a life with Colin Creevy. He just **had** to show back up again, turning her emotions into a whirlpool. Besides, didn't he break up with her before he disappeared? So why wouldn't she let herself forget about him? She hated herself for this, but knew that she would leave Colin in an instant when Harry asked for her to come back to him.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she barely recognized the fact that she had made it to the front door. The door seemed more like a castle gate, towering to the height of almost two stories. The knocker was shaped like a dragon's head, glaring at any visitor who presumed themselves important enough to visit the Manor.

No matter how hard or soft she hit the knocker against the door, an enchantment made it seem to her that the impact reverberated throughout the entire house. Before the false echoes died away, the giant door opened on magically silenced hinges, revealing the Malfoy butler, a man who seemed to define the word "sinister." His thin, bloodless lips formed a creepy smile as he recognized the visitor.

"Miss Weasley, what a pleasant surprise. Is this a social call?" He asked the question with a small amount of sarcasm, knowing that no force on this earth would cause Ginny Weasley to pay a social visit to any Malfoy. That was perhaps why he enjoyed asking the same question anytime Ginny was forced to come to the manor.

"You know it isn't," she sighed. "I need to speak with Draco Malfoy concerning the incident in America."

"Very well," the butler said, dipping into a small bow. "Please follow me." He led her through the entrance way to the same parlor she was shown to each time she was sent to deliver paperwork. Despite the rich furnishings in the room, she always felt uncomfortable, as if there was a palpable atmosphere of evil that permeated this room especially. Despite the many raids on this house where she focused on this parlor, she still had never found any object that would account for such a feeling. She suspected that the Malfoys enjoyed flaunting this room to her, taunting her senses while admitting to nothing. She always made sure never to sit down in this room and always left as soon as she was able.

"Miss Weasley, what a pleasant surprise." Draco's oiled voice announced his presence in the doorway. The exact same words that the butler used convinced Ginny that her "surprise" was anything but. Despite the absolute lack of proof, she was sure that her boss had a deal with the Malfoy family.

"This won't take long, Mr. Malfoy," she said in her best business-like voice. "The Auror Department has decided to rule your altercation with Harry Potter as an 'unauthorized duel out of country.' The official decision is that you and Mr. Potter will each be fined 1,000 galleons or, upon the agreement of both parties, an authorized, refereed duel will decide the success of the complaint."

"So, either we both pay 1,000 galleons, or we duel, and the loser will pay 1,000 galleons? I like the sound of that." Draco did seem pleased. "The idea of humiliating Potter in a duel is quite appealing."

Ginny couldn't help but snort at the ridiculous idea of Draco Malfoy winning any duel against Harry Potter. Draco's pleasant façade faded at her involuntary reaction.

"Tell me, Ginny, what did Potter think of this whole fiasco he landed himself in?"

Despite her rising temper, Ginny kept her voice neutral. "I haven't yet delivered the judgment to Mr. Potter. I'll be sure to tell him that you look forward to getting humiliated once again at the end of his wand," she couldn't help adding. Draco's face had turned menacing as she spoke, all veneer of civility fading.

"Will there be anything else, Auror?"

"That's all," she smirked. "Don't worry, I can show myself out." With that, she turned and strode out of the parlor, bypassing the waiting butler as he followed her to the front door.

"Do come back anytime, Miss Weasley," the butler called after her as she made her way to the Apparation point. She thought about turning around and making a rude gesture, but decided to take the high road and ignored him as she Disapparated away.

* * *

Ginny always enjoyed watching 12 Grimmauld Place appear between its two neighbors, squeezing them to each side. She was glad Ron hadn't asked any questions when she contacted him to find out exactly where Harry was staying. In fact, he seemed a lot less talkative than usual. She tried to maintain her confidence as she walked up to the front door, but the truth was that she was more nervous now than she was when she took her final exam at the Auror Academy. It figured that the first time she got to see Harry in seven years would be on business. Why couldn't she have had a chance to catch up before telling him he had to duel Malfoy? 

She heaved a sigh of self-pity as she knocked on the door.

No answer.

She waited a minute, then knocked again. Finally, the door slowly opened to reveal Dobby, who, despite his apparently nervousness at seeing her, seemed happy than he had in the last seven years.

"Hello, Miss Wheezy," Dobby said. "Is there something Dobby can be doing for you?"

"I need to speak to Harry," she replied.

"Harry Potter sir is not here, Miss Wheezy." The same thing Dobby always said when she asked about him. For a second, Ginny worried that the last few days had been one giant hallucination about Harry's return. She feared that she was finally going crazy. But Dobby's next words settled those fears. "You want to waits for him, Miss Wheezy?"

"When is he going to be back, Dobby? Where did he go?"

"Dobby is not knowing," he said, shaking his head. "Harry Potter sir is just taking off on his 'moty-cycle'"

"What's a…" Ginny started to ask, but was interrupted by a loud roar from up the street. She had never seen one before, but she was sure that this mechanical monstrosity had to be a "moty-cycle." Her suspicions were confirmed when it stopped right in front of the House. She was shocked to see a female figure sitting behind the driver, who, even with his improved physique, was unmistakably Harry. _Did he bring a girlfriend back from America?_ She could see them, but they had a few moments before the magic of the _Fidelius_ allowed them to see the house. Her heart broke into small pieces as they got off the bike and held hands, walking up the sidewalk, taking off their helmets, before the magic even finished.

Harry got his helmet off one-handed and was holding it in his hand when the magic completed its task. Ginny knew exactly when the magic finished because she saw the shocked, almost guilty look replace the joy on Harry's face. He let go of the woman's hand, as if she hadn't already seen them together. Free to use both hands, the woman finally got her helmet off.

"Thanks, Harry," she was saying in a voice that Ginny, who thought she couldn't be more shocked, was when she heard it. "I really need to…" Hermione trailed off as she got the helmet out of the way and finally saw who was standing on the doorstep of her boyfriend's house.

"Oh dear," Dobby said.

* * *

**A/N 2: **I honestly don't know how bad Ginny is going to react. The next chapter is teasing my mind with bits and pieces, but nothing whole yet. However, good news for those who like this story, I'm heading back to Iraq in a few months, and that's when I wrote most of this, and had semi-decent updates. Maybe being away from a decent internet will help me with the free time needed to write more chapters.

Tales of MU: If you haven't seen or heard of this story yet, go check it out. Warning though, this story pulls no punches. It's a very adult fantasy story profiling some alternate lifestyles. The author has recently quit her job back in November and is making a living doing what people used to say can't be done: internet authorship. And it's true, while the regular business model used for books in print would not work on the internet, she's been able to modify the model well enough that she's making a decent amount of money through donations and people buying the different stories in print format as she finishes story arcs. Just take out the spaces in "tales of mu" and add the dotcom. Just don't do this unless you have enough free time to waste to finish up 140 chapters, or have some amazing way to break off an addiction and come back to it later.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **I know, another update so soon? In fact, chapter 15-17 are probably closely related enough to be one chapter, but I'm too lazy to go back and correct that, so you get three shorter chapters instead. Chapter 17 isn't finished yet, but it's getting there.**  
**

* * *

**Royal Flush Chapter 16**

For a second, Ginny's mind refused to process the fact that she had seen Harry and Hermione holding hands. If not for Dobby's comment, she might have been able to ignore the sight. But her training allowed for her to figure out the fact that Dobby was worried about her reaction, which meant that he had seen Harry and Hermione in intimate enough circumstances to think he _needed_ to worry about her reaction. Which meant that Harry and Hermione were together.

For an instant, insane jealousy tore through her mind. _Did she even bother to tell him that I was living with Colin before she dug her claws into him? Did he even ask about me?_ Ginny had never truly believed some of the nastier rumors that were spread about Hermione after she broke up with Ron. But she had heard them repeated often enough that they buzzed around in her subconscious, waiting for a chance to make her believe them. In an instant, she forgot all about the friendship the two of them had shared at Hogwarts, the unspoken truce between the two of them during the aftereffects of the most public breakup in Magical Britain's recent history. She wanted to hex Hermione out of existence.

Before she made any rash decisions, the small part of her brain that offered common sense desperately diverted her attention. _What if her boss knew already?_ It made sense, upon quick reflection. He obviously knew more of the story about what happened in America than she did. If he was looking for an easy way to discredit her, which he had been for quite some time, after he started "enjoying" Malfoy's generosity, then certainly sending her to the home of her former lover without the information that he had a new girlfriend would almost certainly be enough to ignite the famous Weasley temper.

Fortunately, she was one of the calmer of the Weasley clan, getting the best of her brothers by usually not reacting in a manner they'd expect. Despite her feelings about the situation, which included a heart being crushed in a thousand pieces, she still had a job to do. She pushed her dismay away to focus on the "now."

* * *

Seeing a flash of green fire burn through Ginny's eyes, quickly replaced by a calm emotionlessness, Hermione suddenly realized that Ginny had never gotten over Harry Potter. She had seen a similar flash in Ron's eyes shortly after their break-up, when she was at a Ministry party, escorted by a friend from Ravenclaw. Even though Ron had known that there was no relationship there, he still looked about ready to kill. He had taken a little longer to subdue his emotion than Ginny just did. For some reason, that worried Hermione. 

In what seemed to Hermione an act of bravery comparable to marching up to Voldemort and telling him that even without a nose he still smelled, Harry walked right up the sidewalk to confront his ex.

"Hello, Ginny. It's good to see you again." For a second, Ginny's features softened as she looked into the eyes she had once compared to a freshly pickled toad. She wondered if she had misread every bit of evidence and maybe Harry was still available. But then she saw the polite smile on Harry's face, so different from the warm smiles she used to enjoy basking in when they were alone. She saw the emptiness in his eyes and realized he was just being polite.

Was there no emotion left for her at all? If not love, couldn't he_hate_ her or something? Why did he have to be so blasé? She had to get out of here before what little was left of her emotional control broke down completely.

"This is... I have to... Here." She fumbled any attempt to try to explain the envelope she handed him, similar to the one she had just given Draco Malfoy. "It's about what happened with you and Malfoy." Her voice seemed to find its way back into her brain as he looked at her in confusion. "I had to deliver it. Official, you know. I... I have to get back to work."

Her voice cracked at the last word, and she hurried off the doorstep, brushing past Hermione without a word, hoping she could get far enough away that they couldn't see the tears forming in her eyes. _To hell with work_, she thought. There was no way she was going back there today. She heard the door close and looked back to see an empty sidewalk in front of the House of Black. As she moved farther from the area, the house seemed to squeeze in on itself, disappearing once more as she fully left the spells area of effect.

Looking around, she noticed no one in the area and pulled out the invisibility cloak the twins had got her for her birthday one year and pulled a shrunken broom out of her pocket. She was in no mood to apparate; her emotions were too high-strung. Settled on the now-normal-sized broom, she took off into the air, making sure the invisibility cloak was secured in place to keep people underneath from accidently becoming on-lookers. She needed a butterbeer, at least, and she wouldn't be surprised to find a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey in front of her before the night was over...

* * *

Dobby was still holding the door open, anxiously looking at both Harry and Hermione in turn. "Not good, not good," he was muttering as Hermione walked the last few feet to stand at Harry's side. 

"I... I don't want to sound conceited or anything, but..." Harry started to say, but was cut off by Hermione's laugh. It sounded strained, though.

"Ginny's still in love with you. It's pretty hard not to notice, and it's not conceited to realize it."

"I just didn't want to be trying to see something that wasn't there. I mean, it's been almost 10 years, and she's living with Colin Creevey now."

"That's true," Hermione replied. "But do you think she would have managed to live with Creevey all this time without bowing to pressure from Molly to get married if she really loved him? He's a replacement, your biggest fan, and maybe the one person who could understand what she'd been feeling and commiserate with her." She sighed. "I had been hoping it wasn't true. I was hoping she actually was over you, but now we're going to have to figure out what to do."

* * *

It was starting to get late, and the Leaky Cauldron was just about empty. Tom looked sorrowfully at the table in the corner, occupied by one red-haired witch and an almost empty bottle of Firewhiskey. During the war, Tom's tavern had been attacked by Death Eaters, and was saved at the last minute by Harry Potter and his two friends mounting a defense. In response, Tom felt he owed them and their closest friends any help he could give. 

He just didn't know exactly how much help he was providing to Ginny Weasley by allowing her to drown her sorrows. Tonight wasn't even one of the regular anniversaries that set her off. He didn't know exactly what caused her mood today, but he was sure it had something to do with Harry Potter. He made his way over to the corner.

"Miss Weasley? I think it's about time you be calling Mr. Creevy to come get you."

In response, the drunken witch poured the last dregs of the bottle into her glass and drained in in one smooth gulp. She hardly even noticed the steam that poured from her ears. Her eyes struggled to focus on the source of the voice. The entire room was blurry and seemed to be spinning around, but she could just barely make out the expressions on both of Tom's faces as he tried to police her up.

"Yesh, I think I should get out of here." She stood up out of her chair. Suddenly, it seemed that one of the Toms had messed with gravity because she found herself off balance, tumbling towards the floor. Tom caught her, probably the one that hadn't messed with gravity, just barely before she hit the floor. She wasn't up to trusting either of them right now though, and wormed her way out to just lie on the floor, which seemed to be a much better idea that braving a gauntlet of erratic ground. The floor was smooth and cool to her overheating forehead anyways.

"Miss Weasley? Are you alright?"

"I think I need shome help. Your floor is not cooperating."

"Should I floo Mr. Creevy?" Ginny paused to get rid of a hiccup that seemed to need to get out of her body _immediately _and considered her problem.

"Yes. Creevy. No need to floo. I'll just send him a patronus."

It took a few minutes of concentration, but Ginny was finally able to pull up the memory of her Quidditch win back in fifth year, and the resulting kiss she got from Harry. Still, her patronus looked a little weak and wobbly, like a yearling colt instead of the usual horse she had..

"Go find Harry," she whispered. Well, she thought she whispered. A look of alarm appeared on Tom's face as the horse sped off.

"Did you just say Harry, Miss Weasley? Don't you mean Colin?"

"That's what I said: Colin." Ginny was sure that she said Colin. Who else would she call? Further discussion became pointless as she rolled onto her back and began to snore.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** So I've had this story sitting half-finished on my hard drive for a looooooong time. Part of it was getting ready for and deploying to Iraq (again!), and part of it was another story that I had running around in my head for awhile. I wasn't able to work on Royal Flush because any time I considered the story, my mind kept drifting to my other idea. Now for the interesting news, I actually have 2 stories that started to take shape when I started writing my other idea. However, they'll all in the infant stage, I have about 2 chapters from each story written, and I haven't even started looking it over. But, once I wrote the chapters of those stories, I was able to come back and finish this chapter.

I'm home on leave from Iraq right now, for a few more weeks, and since I have this chapter finished, and I still get reviews about once a week begging for an update, I figured I'd better get it taken care of. I hope you and enjoy, and before anybody asks, I have **NO CLUE** about when I might get chapter 18 started. I want to try soon, but I also want to get enough chapters of my other two stories written that I can start posting them without worrying the horribly long update waits I've done for the last few chapters of this story. In a perfect world, I'd like to get them finished before I even publish, but I don't think that's going to happen.

* * *

**Royal Flush Chapter 17**

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stood at the gate of Hogwarts, surrounded by his army of Death Eaters, giants, trolls, vampires, and lycanthropes. As the heir of Slytherin, the wards were a simple matter for him to dismiss. Dumbledore had known all along that there was little he could do to stop a true heir of the founders from assaulting the school, and instead had tried to make the idea of attacking the school an unattractive proposition. But now, Harry Potter was taking refuge in the school, and word had got to Voldemort that the meddling young man had been rooting around in his private past._

_Harry looked from one of the ground floor windows as Voldemort finished dispelling the last of the wards keeping his minions out of school grounds. Surprisingly, Harry felt little fear. Hunting down all the Horcruxes had given him a sense of confidence in dealing with this dark wizard. After the death of Dumbledore, Harry had become the person with the most knowledge into Voldermort's past, his way of thinking. He could get into his mind. Therefore, he knew that Voldemort, despite his display of sangfroid, would be raging inside. Fear and anger would be roiling inside that noseless frame, making it more likely for him to make a mistake._

_Flanked by Dumbledore's Army, the students from Harry's old group that had pledged to defend the school, Harry stepped out to confront his nemesis._

"_Ah, Potter. It's finally time that we finished our little feud."_

_Harry just smirked. Reaching beneath his robes, he pulled out the now destroyed pieces of Voldemort's soul. The horror on Voldemort's face only empowered Harry and the Army. Yet, all of a sudden the horror and anger changed to a triumphant grin._

"_I think you missed one, Potter."_

_Missed one? Of course he hadn't missed a Horcrux. Harry looked down at the ground. One, two, three, four, five... where the hell was number 6? Harry _knew_ that he had collected all the Horcruxes! There was no way this was happening? Voldemort was laughing as Harry looked back up._

"REDUCTO!"_ He shouted. A bright beam of red light shot out of his wand. Surprisingly, Voldemort didn't attempt to dodge or block the spell. The light blasted through his emaciated frame, leaving a smoking hole in the middle of his body, where his heart was supposed to be. But Voldemort kept laughing._

"_ATTACK THE SCHOOL! Destroy all the mudbloods, all the traitors to wizard-kind!" With a shout of glee, the army attacked. Harry stood in the center of a maelstrom, watching spells fly about, every one hitting a student, snuffing out a life. None of the spells cast by the students seemed to have any effect. He heard cackles of glee as lycanthropes pounced on students, ripping apart limbs. Vampires were taking victims, draining blood with abandon. Harry saw a troll swing it's monstrous club, knocking a student into a wall with a bone-breaking thud._

"_Harry!" With a shriek, Hermione ran towards him, dodging spell after spell to fight at her boyfriend's side._

_Wait... Hermione? She wasn't my girlfriend back then. She was with Ron, still._

With a gasp, Harry sat up in bed, breathing heavily, sweat dripping off his face. It was just a nightmare. Harry was almost comforted; this was one he'd had before. Back after the last battle, he had it more than once, but he hadn't had that nightmare in years. He did wonder, though. The dream had changed. He used to see Ginny running towards him, but this time it was Hermione. Maybe that meant he actually was over Ginny, instead of his fear that he had just been avoiding the situation for the past nine years. If he was over her, hopefully she could get over him.

Right now, though, he knew he wasn't going to get any sleep for awhile. Fortunately, his nightmare didn't seem to have disturbed Hermione, who was snoring softly beside him. Silently, he got out of bed, and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. He snuck up to the attic and was relieved to find his old Firebolt gathering dust in the corner. There was a box next to it that he also remembered well. He grabbed his broom and levitated the box to follow him. He went back down to the bedroom and scrawled out a quick note just in case Hermione woke up.

"Flying my broom at the Potter estate" He added the Apparition coordinates, just in case she had forgotten, then went downstairs to apparate away.

* * *

One of the surprises Harry had been delighted to discover upon researching his family history was that his great-grandfather had built a regulation size Quidditch Pitch complete with all the privacy spells that most professional stadiums enjoyed. It had fallen into disrepair between his father's death and Harry's discovery, but Dobby had seemed over joyed at having such an oversized lawn to groundskeep. Harry often wondered if Dobby recruited from the kitchens at Hogwarts to help get the job done, since he really didn't know the limitations of Dobby's magic, but the few times he had asked, he got the impression from Dobby that wizards really weren't supposed to inquire into House Elf magic.

And Dobby had apparently been keeping up with the Pitch. It looked as pristine as the day Dobby had announced that he finished repairing everything. The hoops looked brand new and the stadium itself could hold a good size crowd. Harry set the box on the ground and took off on the broom. Not counting his desperate flight to rescue Hermione from Draco, Harry hadn't been on a broom in years. Tonight he was able to fully enjoy the _rightness_ of the feeling as the wind rushed through his hair. He accelerated the broom to top speed and made a few laps around the Pitch, twisting, turning, dipping, diving, laughing as his reflexes took over with an ease that made Harry wonder if he had been born for this.

He came to a stop beside the box he had grabbed from the attic. He opened it up to reveal four bludgers that started shaking violently as soon as the top was off. The straps held in place though. Harry had found this in his dad's vault. These were, he had learned, an invention of his great-grandfather's. Also an accomplished seeker, his ancestor would regularly practice dodging four at once, to make dodging only two in regulation games a much easier task.

Harry had never got the chance to try them out, busy as he was with the Horcrux hunt and the subsequent disappearance from wizarding society. But tonight, in order to banish the nightmare, Harry had taken to flying his broom again, and the ease with which he picked the skill back up, he _knew_ that he would easily be able to handle four bludgers. He flew into the air, the said the command word to release the bludgers from their restraints.

Instantly, all four balls started flying towards him at a much higher speed that he anticipated. But tonight, in order to defeat the memory of the nightmare, Harry knew what he had to do. He waited for the last instant. Then, as all the bludgers converged on his position, he let loose his control of the broom. It dropped towards the ground like a stone, taking Harry's head a fraction of an inch below the spot where all four bludgers collided in mid-air, their momentum causing them to rebound in different directions.

The chase was on.

Harry maneuvered his broom with an innate skill, one that seemed only possible after many years of practice. He let go all his thoughts, all his worries, all his concerns about his re-immersion into the world he left behind. Acting on the most primal of instincts, he swooped, swerved, dived, looped, laughing all the while, daring the bludgers to hit him. At one point, he did a complete 180 with his broom, using the twigs to bat the bludger away in the direction it was heading.

He was playing a game of chicken with four bludgers, and it was impossible for him to lose. Everything felt so right, that he didn't even need to see where the bludgers were, he could feel their positions above the Quidditch Pitch. He knew their vectors, their velocities; he could tell when one changed it's heading, when another slowed down. He was in total command.

Until he heard a gasp.

Hermione had apparated to the Pitch and saw Harry apparently attempting to commit suicide by bludgers. Even recognizing the skill with which he avoided their attacks, the last close call was too close for her to remain silent. Harry was snapped out of his state of mind as he saw her standing on the field. He instantly lost his focus and only the most urgent warnings of his instincts caused him to roll upside-down in midair to avoid the bludger. He saw that the bludgers had also noticed Hermione, and one was breaking away to attack her.

Her wand was up in a flash, but the spell narrowly missed the oncoming missle, and she dived out of the way at the last second as the bludger slammed into the pitch, carving out a divot the size of her head. Harry dived towards her, pushing every ounce of speed from his broom. Another bludger had broken off of him, and started a pursuit towards the easier target standing on of the grass.

Even though bludgers were designed to be faster than the player's brooms, Harry had the very interesting experience of _passing_ it on his way to get to his girlfriend first. He could almost sense the bludger's confusion at something moving faster than itself. Then he was pulling out of his dive, kicking himself off the broom to roll across the ground, springing to his feet next to Hermione.

His spell banished the bludger back to its box, where restraints immediately sprang up to keep it in confinement. The original bludger had recovered from its impact with the ground and was aiming towards Hermione again, but this time, her spell didn't miss, and the bludger joined its counterpart in restraints.

Only two more to go. They both were heading towards Harry, but were at such different angles that he wouldn't be able to get them with one spell. Instead, he pointed his wand at one, and held out his hand at the other. Casting a banishing spell with both his wand _and_ wandlessly, he managed to get the last two bludgers in their spots in the box. The restraints held them down, and the box obligingly snapped shut.

Panting, the last spell had taken a bit of effort, Harry turned to see if Hermione was alright. He got a punch in his shoulder for his efforts.

"Ouch! 'Mione!"

"Harry James Potter! Are you trying to get yourself killed? A psychotic two-wheeled contraption that you ride at the speed of light, and now four bludgers at once?" Harry winced, no one ever used his middle name unless they were upset.

"Aw, c'mon. I had it under control. Didn't you see?"

"Of course you did. Then you _meant_ to give me apparition coordinates to put me in the middle of your little suicide gambit!"

"I, uh... I didn't think about that." He said, sheepishly. The sincere apologetic look on his face melted Hermione's demeanor, and she had a sudden thought that his father probably got out of more detentions than he got with the same look of innocence. It seemed impossible to stay mad at him, especially when he hadn't actually done anything wrong.

"You sure you're ok, Hermione? None of the bludgers hit you?" She took a second to check herself out; now that the adrenaline had faded somewhat, she realized that the only problem was a small bruise from where her arm hit the ground when she dove for cover.

"I'm fine. Nothing serious." Suddenly she saw a misty form flying towards the two of them from the boundries of the pitch. "Harry! Look!" Harry spun around, ready for anything, but quickly went from wary to worried when he noticed that it was a Patronus.

"Who's Patronus is that?" he asked. It was still too far away to make out any details, but the distance was rapidly decreasing.

"And who all knows you're back that would send the Patronus like that?" Hermione wondered, worriedly.

"You don't think this is a coincidence," Harry stated, rather than asked. "You've got a point," he stated when she nodded. "Whoever it is, I have to help them." Hermione already knew that, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, rather than her.

"That 'saving people' thing you have," she teased.

By now, the patronus was close enough that Hermione recognized Ginny's horse. So did Harry.

"This definitely isn't coincidence," he sighed. For a jealous instant, Hermione wanted him to ignore the summons. But that passed quickly as she knew that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ignored a friend in trouble. For that matter, he wouldn't be the type of man she loved if he didn't have the quality that made him need to save his friends.

"Do you think you'll need my help?" Hermione looked a little queasy at the idea of riding on a broom after so long, especially after watching his aerial acrobatics, but Harry was touched by the offer.

"I'll head to wherever she is first. If I need any help, I'll call Dobby to let you know." Despite the residual jealousy still flowing through her mind, Hermione had to admit the plan was sound.

While they were talking, the patronus was trying to urge Harry to hurry up, but as it butted its ephemeral head against Harry's shoulder, it just passed through, causing a slight tickle. The horse looked worried, though, so Harry mounted his broom. Immediately, the patronus started galloping back the way it came, looking back to make sure Harry followed, which he did after a goodbye kiss to Hermione.

It was running a little slower than the top speed of Harry's broom, but when it saw that he could go faster, it picked up it's pace until Harry was hard-pressed to keep up.

_Thank Merlin the weather is so nice tonight_ he thought to himself, wondering what kind of trouble his ex-girlfriend managed to get herself into...

* * *

The front page of the evening edition of the Daily Prophet told Colin Creevy everything he needed to know. The headline: "Boy-Who-Lived Returns," written in the largest possible font let him know why Ginny wasn't home from work yet. The sub-heading: "Old Friend, New Love," and the picture of Harry and Hermione let him know that Ginny had more than likely been turned down. Colin was pretty sure that tonight would be worse that most nights.

Ginny liked to think she hid the worst of her longing for Harry from him, but he realized that almost all the times he picked her up drunk from The Leaky Cauldron were on some significant date; Harry's Birthday, Halloween, the day he disappeared. Of course, he hadn't done much to help her. Keeping silent about the whole thing was just enabling her to keep doing it. But after eight years, he actually believed that Harry would never return, and that he had enough time to say something to her. Now, whether or not she went back to Harry, Colin was pretty worried that he lost her.

It was already well past closing time at the Leaky Cauldron and neither Ginny nor Tom had contacted him yet. He wondered if she was just so bad that Tom put her up in a room for the night.

"I guess I'd better go check," he said to himself. He grabbed a few galleons, Ginny usually drank more than she had money to pay for, but Tom knew that he would always get paid back. Colin walked outside, checked the sidewalk to make sure no muggles were watching and apparated to right outside the Leaky Cauldron.

Just in time to see Ginny's patronus run back through the door. He was so shocked to see that that he almost didn't hear a surprised exclamation in the air behind him. The sound penetrated his shock just in time and he rolled out of the way as a maniac on a broom whooshed by him, missing him by millimeters, pulling to a stop at the doorway.

The maniac was already off his broom, holding a wand at Colin's prone form, and a familiar voice cut through the night.

"What's going on here? Who's inside?"

"Harry! Calm down! It's me, Colin." This was _not_ how he wanted to meet his one-time hero, his girlfriend's ex. He stood up, trying to regain some dignity and brushed his clothes off. Harry wasn't about to wait, though.

"Colin?! Thank god you're here. Ginny's in trouble, she sent her patronus to find me."

"Trouble?" Colin laughed, a bitter, mirthless sound that shocked Harry into silence. "You think she's in actual trouble? You've been gone almost ten years, and you don't think she's affected by you coming back? Come inside, Harry. See the 'trouble' she's gotten herself into."

Colin shoved Harry aside, rougher than he had to, and opened the door. He saw her immediately, her head down on the bar, arms crossed above her head. Tom saw him walk in and headed straight for him.

"Mr. Creevy, thank Merlin you're here. I could swear I'm going crazy. I thought I heard Miss Ginny send the patronus to..." Tom stopped speaking as Harry walked into the bar. "Bless my soul," he said, under his breath.

Harry looked miserable at seeing Ginny passed out. He was completely speechless. Colin grabbed an arm and lifted her to the standing position. This seemed to revive her somewhat, but only barely.

"Colin," she slurred, "I wanna go home." She seemed to have forgotten about sending the patronus to Harry, believing, in her drunken stupor, that she sent it to Colin all along. She seemed to pass out again, standing only with Colin's support. He was carrying her more than she was walking, but he seemed to have had a lot of practice.

"Once or twice a month, Harry, I have to put up with this _shit_, because the Boy-Who-Lived just had to disappear. She thinks she was the only one hurting, also." There was a vehemence in his voice, and anger that cut into Harry's soul. "You were my hero, too. You were a hero to everyone. And you just left. Why didn't you just stay gone?"

And without waiting for an answer, Colin dragged his girlfriend out the door into the street.

Harry looked at Tom, his face a study in misery.

"Was it really that bad, Tom? Did I do that much damage by leaving?" Tom took a few minutes to consider what to say. He made up for it by pulling two bottles of butterbeer out of the icebox, handing one to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, you have to understand, with Dumbledore dead, and most of the Ministry of Magic decimated by Voldemort's attacks that last year, you were the person the magical community looked up to. There were a lot of rumors going on about that prophecy. Everyone believed, even though we had no proof at the time, that you were the one to defeat Voldemort."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"Well, you see, defeating such a powerful dark wizard put you in the spotlight. Everyone was looking to you for guidance. Disappearing as you did confused a lot of people. It let a lot of other people take power who maybe shouldn't have taken power, if you get my meaning. If you have been here to speak up against them, the magical community wouldn't have allowed everything that's gone on."

"But that's not fair," Harry protested. "People shouldn't have to wait for someone to point out right and wrong! They should be able to make up their own minds! That's how it works in America."

"Ah, but in America, the magical community is more spread out. There are a lot more communities than there are in Britain. And americans themselves are much more rugged, more independent. There's a lot of tradition here in Britain. And tradition is hard to go against when you're just an average magic user. You have a unique chance here, Mr. Potter. You can use the advantage of being one of the last scions of Pure Blood families to help those who don't have a family tree heading back to the middle ages."

Harry looked in wonder at the bartender. This was not what he expected.

"Does anyone else know you're this smart, Tom?"

A sad smile was the only answer he got.

* * *

**A/N: **So, another chapter, I hope you enjoyed. I really liked writing a) the dream, and b) the flying sequence. I've wanted for so long to finish this chapter so I could post those up, but I just kept getting hit by a writer's block.

For those of you who are interested about the other two stories I mentioned starting to write, the basic plot for the first one is eleven years after the end of the war and the son of the most reviled wizard in Britain is starting at Hogwarts. (Can you guess who the most hated wizard is, since I don't want to use his name directly? lol). And the second story, which was my first idea is actually a prequel to the other story, an AU 6th year dealing with an aspect of dark magic that I haven't seen in any other fan fiction, and the effects it has on Harry and his friends. I'm going to be keeping this story as close to canon as possible with the 6th year, but near the end, enough will change that 7th year is going to be a very different experience. I'll be working on these a lot while in Iraq, as I've put together a bunch of notes and outlines that I hope will keep the stories straight enough in my head to write.

For those of you who don't know, my original inspiration for Royal Flush came while I was stationed in Iraq last time, so if you like this story, you might like the other two I'm working on. Title-wise, for the first story, I'm calling it "The Redemption of a Dark Lord" and the other story "Fall of a Dark Lord." Reviews are always read and appreciated, even if I get too many now to respond to each one like I did for the first couple chapters. Thanks for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** I know, this is a really long chapter, and so soon after the most recent one, right? Before I wrote any author's notes, I have this chapter at 8700 words, give or take a few. I was stuck without internet or phones for about a week and a half. I had all that time. I have this chapter done and looked over quite a few times, and I'm as happy with it as I am any chapter I've written. I have a lot of the next chapter done, and want to finish it. I've had another idea for this year's NaNoWriMo, so I've been working on that for awhile, though. I'll publish that story once I get everything finished, no publishing of that until I'm done. As to the idea I told you about last chapter, I've been working on a few different formats of writing, trying to expand my abilities

**Royal Flush**

**Chapter 18**

_The-Boy-Who-Lived-Then-Disappeared-Then-Returned!_

_by Luna Lovegood_

_Anyone who is not a recent victim of a Wrackspurt infestation is aware of the situation of the wizarding world's greatest current hero, Harry Potter. As we reported when he first disappeared, Harry Potter managed to escape the Ministry of Magic's conspiracy to cross-breed our hero with a certain fertile sub-branch of the only English Veela clan. During this reporter's interview with my old friend, Harry claimed to be unaware of any such conspiracy, but is grateful that he managed to coincidentally escape such an evil scheme. His new girlfriend and old friend, Hermione Granger seemed a little off-put at such a disturbing revelation, but had no comment on the subject. A few of our lucky readers know just how persistent the English Veela can be._

_So where has Harry been all these years? Well, according to him, he's been living a hard life as a muggle in the American city of Las Vegas. The Department of American Magical Neighborhoods claims that Las Vegas is one of the most hostile cities on the North American Continent. The "electricity," a recent muggle invention that provides a form of power used to try to make life easier for them, is in very high concentration in Las Vegas, as well as a certain substance called "neon." The combination of the two items causes a disruption in most basic magical powers. Harry claims to have used very little magic in the time he's been gone. Clearly this means that he was aware of the continuing search for him, and the ability of those in charge to perform long-ranges scans in search of his magical signature._

_Now that he's back home in England, he's in more danger than ever. Not only is he illegally contracted out by the Ministry to the English Veela clan, Draco Malfoy, himself 1/64th Veela, is jealous of his distant relatives' rejection of his bid to perform as stud in Harry's place. Malfoy has used his stunted Veela powers to persuade the Ministry to allow a legal duel, the first of its kind in close to 300 years._

_Far from being worried, however, Harry Potter claims to be looking forward to "teaching the ferret a lesson." Despite nine years of magical inactivity, Harry Potter certainly seems confident. Reluctant to reveal his strategy, he only claims that the duel, set for this Saturday at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, will be one to remember..._

_More on the interview with Harry Potter... page 3_

_Reprint of original Ministry/Veela Conspiracy... page 6_

_Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, new evidence?... page 2_

"Well, I think the article went pretty well, actually." Harry struggled to keep his lips from twitching too hard as he passed the paper to Hermione. It took a few seconds less than he predicted for her to start sputtering.

"Veela! Breeding!? No Comment?!? I didn't have a comment because Luna never said anything about that to me!"

Harry was laughing as he grabbed the paper out of her unresisting hands. "Don't worry about it, 'Mione. Luna did what she needed to do. She told the world I'm back, let everyone know that we're together, and helped build up excitement for the duel this Saturday."

"Speaking of the duel, are you actually going to practice at all? There are plenty of empty rooms if you want to get back in the flow of casting spells in a fight." Hermione had made this offer every morning for the past week, since Ron, as Harry's Second, finalized the terms of the duel with Malfoy's Second. She was getting worried that not only did Harry seem to use almost no magic on a day-to-day basis, he didn't ever seem to practice any combat spells.

However, Harry just mustered the same mysterious half-smile he always did when talking about the duel. He was aggravating all his friends with his complete lack of explanation regarding his plans. Even Dobby was getting worried about Harry Potter, sir's chances of winning this duel. The Unforgivables were banned, but everyone knew that Draco Malfoy knew plenty of dark spells and would not hesitate to use them on Harry.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but all those years I've been alone taught me to keep my cards close to my chest when everything's on the line. Rest assured, that I know what I'm doing, and I won't have any problem taking care of Malfoy."

For some reason, the tone of his voice was so calming, so reassuring, that Hermione found herself unable to argue. Despite the worries running through her head, she nodded, deciding to trust him, for a little while longer.

* * *

Despite the early hour, every student was awake by 8 A.M. this Saturday morning. Breakfast was a hurried affair, most of the students were too excited to eat very much. Even Professor Weasley, who was famous for eating almost as much as Professor Hagrid, seemed to have a much smaller portion on his plate that usual. The students didn't know what Headmistress McGonagall knew. Ron was worried for his friend. Harry's casual confidence in the outcome of the match was aggravating to his best friend, who was worried about what Malfoy had been doing to get ready for this. He had followed Harry's instructions exactly when negotiating the terms for the duel, including the one to keep all the terms secret from _everyone_, including Hermione, and every single directive he was given seemed to put Harry at a disadvantage. As the students were finishing up, but making excuses to stay in the Great Hall, McGonagall stood up.

"Attention, students! We must ask everyone to leave the Hall to set the stage for the duel today. We will start admitting all students back into the Great Hall at approximately 11 A.M. Lunch will be served after the duel."

"Yeah, so let's hope Harry finishes off Malfoy quickly so we can eat!" The voice came from the Gryffindor section, to the laughter of the rest of the school, minus the Slytherins, but Minerva realized to her dismay that she didn't know who said it. She regretted the fact that since she became headmistress, she no longer had the time to get acquainted with "her" Gryffindors. Having Professor Weasley take over the head of Gryffindor was small comfort. She looked his way and sent a quick thought via Legilimancy.

"_Do you know who that was?"_

Ron's only response was a small shrug and a half-smile. He knew damn well who said it, but for some reason didn't feel like giving up the name of the culprit. She sighed, knowing this was a battle she wasn't going to win. She thanked Merlin for small mercies, at least. Such as the fact that Ron still hadn't bowed to pressure from his twin brothers to make them Honorary Assistant Heads of House for Gryffindor, much to the dismay of the students. He really was a capable Head of House, and she wasn't too sure that she would have told Dumbledore the student's name if she had been in the same position. Not that he would have never needed to ask her. She made a mental note to talk to Dumbledore's portrait to find out how he always knew students' names.

The students filed out of the Hall, headed outside, or back to their common rooms, talking of nothing but the duel.

By eleven o'clock, the Great Hall looked very different. The four long tables had disappeared. A large, circluar stage occupied the center of the room, draped in black velvet. The house elves had arranged bleachers around three quarters of the stage, with VIP seating arranged where the teacher's table usually stood. The students didn't seem to have lost any excitement as they filed in, filling in the seats closest to the stage to guarantee a good view. Except for Slytherins claiming one area of the seating for themselves, the houses mixed together for the event. Minerva looked over to where Hermione was sitting next to Ron and his wife, giving them a small smile.

After the students had finished seating, McGonagall opened the castle to other wizarding residents hoping to see the duel. She barely kept the distaste off her face as she greeted the Minister of Magic and escorted him to his seat in the VIP section. The current Minister of Magic, Isaiah Hartenot, managed to get by the same way Fudge used to, by pandering to the pure-bloods that occupied the Majority of the Wizengamot. Unlike Fudge, however, he somehow mastered the ability to appeal to the half-bloods and muggle-born that made up the majority of the population. Something about the man's personality just never sat right with Minerva, no matter how friendly he tried to act towards her. Except for Weasley, who felt the same way, the other professors seemed to find no problem with the man.

Finally, everyone was seated and Minerva instructed one of the House Elves to admit the two competitors. Draco Malfoy was the first to enter, dressed splendidly in the finest of dueling clothes. The Slytherin section gave a cheer at the sight of their favorite, which Malfoy acknowledged with a bow in their direction. He walked up to the VIP section, greeting the Minister like old friends, which they were. He bowed to Minerva politely, which seemed to curry some respect with the crowd. A self-satisfied smile on his face as he straightened showed her that that was what he planned.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said, with barely contained civility.

"Headmistress, a pleasure to see you again. I'm most grateful that you allowed the use of your School for this unfortunate event." The acoustics of the Hall ensured that his voice carried to each corner of the room. The crowd was completely silent waiting for the Headmistress' response.

"I decided that it would be best to allow this duel to occur here, as it is a neutral arena." She leaned closer to Malfoy and whispered so only he could hear. "_Besides, I wouldn't for the world miss the chance to see one of my favorite students wipe the floor with you."_ Before he could respond, she straightened back in her seat and said loudly enough for everyone to hear, "I look forward to the upcoming entertainment."

Draco managed to keep his cool, plastering a fake smile on his face as he turned towards the crowd. His pace a bit faster than normal as he marched to his spot on the stage, revealing a small limp. Minerva looked over to her friends, and saw Hermione with just a bit of a smirk on her face as she noticed the limp. She knew from Ron that Harry had somehow injured Malfoy in Las Vegas, but she wasn't aware that the healers hadn't been able to fully heal Malfoy up. She was distracted by the House Elf appearing at her side.

"Headmistress, Lacey is unable to find Harry Potter on the school grounds." The elf tried to keep her voice low, but it carried far enough to reach not only Hermione, but also Minister Hartenot. The minister stalked over to the pair. In a loud voice, he said, "What's that? Mr. Potter is missing? Again?" The crowd gasped at the pronouncement, then everyone started talking at once. Professor Weasley raised his wand and cast a Cannon-Blast charm.

"Everyone calm down. Mr. Potter will be here."

"I'm afraid, Professor Weasley that this duel has a very strict starting time. If Mr. Potter is not here within the next five minutes, I'll have no choice but to declare the duel a forfeit in favor of Mr. Malfoy." With that, the Minister sat back down. Engaging in a bit of showmanship, Malfoy cast a Time Keeping charm, conjuring up a clock with a five minute countdown. Except for the excited murmers of the crowd, nothing happened for the next four minutes. Malfoy looked more and more confident, sure that Potter would be too afraid to face him with only magic. He was quite specific in making sure that the agreement for the duel included a clause that allowed only wands as weapons. He had been caught unaware by Potter's unorthodox methods too many times before.

With one minute left on the clock, the doors to the Great Hall flung open. McGonagall frowned; she didn't close the doors, and she could swear that they had already been open before just now. She let out a not-so-silent groan as she saw the Bane of all Hogwarts teachers, the Weasley twins. They were dressed identically in what McGonagall recognized as uniforms of the Vatican Guards. She wasn't sure if they were trying to portray themselves as guards to a religious leader or if they just liked the colors. The only difference between their clothes and regular uniforms were that the bright blue and yellow colors of the outfits switched sides constantly. Truth to tell, it was a bit much, causing the start of a migraine. Then they began to speak...

"Ladies and..."

"Gentlemen."

"Witches..."

"And Wizards."

"And Malfoy," one said, with an over-elaborate bow in his direction.

"We would like to introduce..."

"The Voldemort Vanquisher..."

"The Dark Lord Defeater..."

"The Slytherin Stymier..."

"Making Mincemeat of Malfoys..."

"The One,"

"The Only,"

"Don't forget his most important title, dear brother!" One cried in mock alarm.

"Dear me!" His brother cried. "You're quite right, Fred. Would you do the honors?"

"But of course..." Fred paused to take a breath. "Let's not forget his most important accomplishment, Hermione Granger's boyfriend!"

The crowd burst into laughter at the "title" as Ron put his arm around a blushing Hermione. Even Lavender was laughing, now that she knew her husband and his ex-girlfriend were more like brother and sister now, than lovers. The applause died down and they shouted together.

"HARRY POTTER!"

An elaborate flourish toward the doors had the entire crowd staring at the empty entrance. Yet no one appeared. The silence was breathtaking. Draco spared a quick glance at the clock. Thirty seconds left, and he would forever be telling society how the great Harry Potter was too scared to face him. The crowd grew restless.

"Let's try again, brother." They nodded.

"HARRY POTTER!" Again, the crowd stared towards the still empty doors.

"What's everyone looking at?" The voice came from behind the crowd, and everyone turned to see Harry Potter enter via a side door and take his place on the dueling stage, just as the clocked finished it's last second. Silence reigned for a second.

"Harry! You wanted us to announce you!" One of the twins cried in dismay. In response, Harry smirked and turned towards the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, take a good look. You won't see this very often, but you just witness the Weasley twins as _victims_ instead of initiators of a prank." It took about half a second for the crowd to process this information, then they all roared with laughter, many of them victims themselves of Fred and George's handiwork. Even Headmistress McGonagall was laughing, accepting this as a sort of revenge for all the times she fell victim to some of their pranks.

"Enough!" Malfoy's voice cut through the din. "We have a duel to fight, and Potter is delaying!"

"Aw, don't worry, Malfoy," Harry drawled. "We'll get to you in a second. I just took care of the important stuff first."

"How... How is playing a _joke_ more important that dealing with this duel?!" Malfoy sputtered.

"Because, Malfoy," Harry explained patiently. "Everyone knows that I'm going to beat you today. Seeing a joke played on the Weasley twins is much more unexpected."

Malfoy's face reddened with rage as the crowd laughed at his expense. Here was Harry Potter, who hadn't used his magic for almost ten years, acting like he was going to win easily. He had no clue of what type of training Malfoy had subjected himself to for the past decade. _What's even worse_, Draco realized, _is that Potter doesn't even care what I've done. _Potter was acting like the outcome was a forgone conclusion. He swore to make his nemesis pay for his overconfidence. With a supreme effort of will, Draco calmed down. Gritting his teeth, he turned to the Minister of Magic. "Could we please get started?"

"Of course," The minister replied. "Professor Flitwick has been agreed upon by both competitors as an agreeable judge of this duel. Professor, if you would commence with the duel?"

The diminutive professor, who had been waiting by the side, walked to the center of the stage. His squeaky voice seemed more serious than usual, carrying the necessary gravitas for this function.

"Gentlemen," he started, nodding to the two. "If you would take your places." They both moved the marked spots on the floor. "A quick recap of the rules for our audience. As you both agreed, wands are the only tools allowed on the stage. Any curses, hexes, charms, jinxes or spells are allowed, except, of course, for the three Unforgivables."

Hermione gasped. She wasn't aware that Harry had agreed to allow the legality of plenty of dark curses. There was no telling what sort of Dark Magic Malfoy could use with such lax restrictions. The rest of the audience muttered amongst themselves. They all believed that this significantly altered the odds towards the pureblood scion. Harry just smirked. Professor Flitwick continued through the noise.

"The duel ends when one of the contestants yields, is knocked unconscious, dies, or is otherwise unable to continue the duel, contingent on my best judgement." The commotion grew louder at this pronouncement, but he continued over the din. "While specialized wards have been erected to protect the spectators from errant spells, any intentional targeting of the audience will result in a forfeit and additional fine. I am now required by law to make one last appeal to both parties asking for one last chance for the two of you to settle your differences." The crowd waited with baited breath. Draco was about to exclaim, "No way," but Harry spoke first.

"If Draco Malfoy offers a formal public apology to myself and Miss Granger for breaking and entering into my hotel room and kidnapping Miss Granger from that same room, I will make an equivalent, formal public apology for engaging in self defense and shooting Mr. Malfoy in the leg and hand, for causing the destruction of his wand, and for causing the loss of three of his fingers on his dominant hand. Oh, and I will apologize for making him look like a complete idiot to the American Magic Community." Harry kept a formal tone to his voice for the whole speech, but he was smirking as he said the last sentence.

Not all the details of their confrontation in America had been revealed to the General Public, partly on the order of the Ministry of Magic, deciding that the release of the information would be delayed until the completion of the duel. So this was the first time the vast majority of the public had heard about how thoroughly Harry had dealt with Draco. The Minister looked furious that Potter broke the informal gag order, but he was in no position to complain. Harry had cannily revealed the truth in the form of a legal offer that was tradition at the beginning of the duel. Malfoy, for his part, looked ready to explode with rage.

"I will make no apology for the unprovoked and vicious attack I suffered while I was innocently vacationing!" It was obvious to the crowd that he was lying. Now, the results of the duel were insignificant. Even if Malfoy won, and the papers proclaimed Harry's loss and associated guilt for the incident in the colonies, enough people knew the truth that Malfoy's reputation would be damaged.

"Very well," Flitwick said solemnly, though he flashed a quick wink at Harry. "Contestants, ready your selves." He conjured a feather at eye level. "The duel will begin when this feather touches the floor." He moved off the stage and waved his wand at the feather. Slowly it started to drift towards the ground. Draco took out his new wand and held it at the ready, staring at Potter while glancing at the feather. This exposed to the public eye, he was taking no chances at being called out for cheating by starting too early. The feather was halfway to the floor when he realized that Potter hadn't made a single move.

Harry stood, a self-assured smile on his face, hands crossed over his chest as he stared at Malfoy, not even glancing at the feather's progress. His wand was nowhere in sight. Draco refused to be intimidated by Potter's nonchalance. He just pretended that Potter had drawn his wand, and was ready when the feather touched the floor.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted, watching the spell fly true. It slammed into Potter's chest... and nothing happened. Harry laughed and opened his arms, showing his empty hands to the crowd.

"Just what exactly did you expect a disarming spell to do to an unarmed opponent, Malfoy?" The crowd enjoyed another laugh at Malfoy's expense, further angering the dueler.

"Reducto!" The spell flew straight towards his opponent, but, without him seeming to move, the spell flew just past Potter's head, splashing harmlessly on the wards at the edge of the ring. The section of the crowd that found themselves temporarily face to face with one of the spells gasped and applauded at the dodge.

"You seem to have missed, Malfoy. Why don't you try again?"

Even though he knew he was playing towards Potter's showmanship, Malfoy's pride refused to let him quit casting. He started a rapid fire casting of different low level curses. Even though his marksmanship was excellent, Potter evaded every single spell, moving with a grace that generated the illusion of him standing still. Malfoy paused after about twenty spells to take a breath.

"Are you kidding me, Malfoy? I've never had this much trouble hitting a target with a spell."

Malfoy did his best to ignore the taunts and released a sweep of stunners, hoping that a dodge of one of them would place Potter in the path of another. Potter ruined his plans by executing a neat jump and somersault over the spells. It was the first obvious exertion by Potter, which drove the crowd to cheer his tactic.

"Draw your wand and fight me, Potter!" The frustration was evident in Malfoy's voice.

Harry just laughed, causing many in the crowd to laugh with him. "Malfoy, I promised myself after I destroyed Voldemort that I would only draw my wand if I was in danger."

"Sectumsempra!" The dark purple light of the curse was spread in a long edge as it raced from Malfoy's wand towards his infuriatingly casual opponent. Harry dropped to the floor on his back, letting the spell pass over him, but before Malfoy could react, he drew his legs up towards his chest and kicked them out, pushing off the ground with his hands. Before anyone realized he was on the ground, Harry Potter was already standing back up. Gasps of approval rang out from the crowd at the impressive athletic move.

"_Torturatus!"_ The crowd gasped and booed at this latest spell. Similar to the Cruciatas, this spell was designed to cause agonizing pain. The only reason it wasn't an Unforgivable was that it was able to be blocked by a sufficiently powerful shield spell (and because the ministry reserved the right to use the spell as a form of legalized torture in times of emergency). To everyone's surprise, though, Harry made no move to shield himself, _or_ dodge the spell. Instead he held out his hand and let the spell hit him. He again defied everyone's expectations by _not _dropping to the ground or screaming in pain. He allowed a mild look of discomfort to flit over his face.

Malfoy looked suitably shocked. He could tell that the spell was still active and he could cut it off at any point he wanted. He also knew that he had lost whatever approval from the crowd he once had. Even the Slytherins watching seemed to take exception to the very dark spell. He checked his wand again, yes, the spell was active, but it seemed to have no effect.

"Don't worry, Malfoy. Your spell is active. You just don't realize that a spell like this barely affects me now."

Malfoy cut the spell off in frustration. "Why won't it work, Potter?"

"Because of my final battle with Voldermort, Malfoy." The statement was so shocking, it sounded like one gasp as the entire crowd leaned forward as if to hear better. Harry Potter had been famous for always refusing to reveal any details of his final battle. The details had only been released to a certain trusted Unspeakable of the Department of Mysteries via Pensieve. The memory was held in a classified Pensieve, the Ministry confirming only that the Dark Lord was truly dead according to the memories Harry Potter released. Harry had even refused to reveal any details to Ron, Hermione, or Ginny. He always claimed that he needed time to come to grips with memory.

"I was losing the battle when Voldemort made his fatal mistake." Harry's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. Even Malfoy stopped the duel to listen. Harry seemed to forget where he was, his eyes staring into nothing as he recounted his most horrible memory...

_

* * *

The knowledge that he knowingly walked into the trap was scant comfort as Harry felt the spell wall trap him inside the Riddle Manor, cutting himself off from everyone but his deadly nemesis. Despite his preperations, and the knowledge that all the Horcuxes were destroyed, Harry still wasn't sure that he was ready to face Voldemort. To be totally honest, he hadn't expected Tom to run away upon seeing the destruction of his lifelines. Harry had been hoping the final battle would be held at Hogwarts, so he would have a shorter trip to the infirmary after he was done._

"_Well, Potter," the sibilant voice seemed to be coming from the very walls of the house. Just like Tom to gloat. "I'm so glad you could make it to your death."_

"_It won't be that easy, Tom." Harry was glad that his voice managed to keep from wavering. It sounded strong, confident, full of foolish Gryffindor courage. "I've already taken care of your Horcruxes. You're next."_

"_Your destruction of those trinkets mean nothing! I can always make more, after I destroy you." Harry heard many emotions in Riddle's voice: anger, fear, and just a little bit of a bluff._

_  
"I don't think you can, Tom. You've already stretched your own soul so thin through the making of those. If you make any more, you'll no longer be human." Harry kept moving through the house, twitching at every shadow, imagining noises in every room that lay beyond every empty door he passed. He walked into what must have been a dining room, so long ago. The entire room had been emptied out, however. The entire room was clean, immaculate._

"_But I will be Immortal!" Voldemort's voice rose to a shout as he appeared in the center of the room in a burst of flame. "With you and that prophecy out of the way, no one will be able to stop me!"_

"_Don't you remember what Dumbledore said, Tom? There are fates so much worse than death."_

"_Stop calling me Tom! I am Lord Voldemort! I left that filthy Muggle name in my past, like I will you!"_

_At Voldemort's blustering, Harry realized that he actually felt a small amount of pity for the man Tom Riddle could have been._

"_That name is always a part of you, Tom. You ensured that when you formed your new name out of your old name. Run from the past all you want, it will catch up to you. My presence here today is evidence of that." Harry wasn't sure what part of his mind the words were coming from, but they actually lifted his courage more with each sentence he spoke. On the contrast, Voldemort looked more out of control. His rage was overwhelming. Harry knew, suddenly, that he would be walking out of this house today._

* * *

"You're stalling, Potter!" Malfoy shook himself out of the trance that had seemed to fall over himself, the judge, and the crowd as Harry spoke of what happened. He cast a boiling hex designed to turn the water in his enemy's blood to steam, but Harry sidestepped that as easily as every other curse sent his way.

"Oh, Malfoy. Don't you know? The rest of our audience wants me to finish the story." True to Harry's words, the crowd started making their wishes known.

"Let him finish!"

"Bad Sport!"

"Worse Aim!"

Harry held his hands up, and amazingly, the crowd quieted. "Now, Malfoy wants to duel, but I want to tell a little story. I propose a compromise." Before Malfoy could react, he drew his wand for the first time and let loose a spell. "Petrificus Partialus!"

Malfoy tried to dodge, but wound up sidestepping directly into the path of the spell. He fell to the floor like a rock. He tried to get back up, but was unable to move any part of his body below the neck. He swung his head around, only able to see a small part of the Great Hall. Potter had him at his mercy. Professor Flitwick stepped up to the center of the stage.

"As Mr. Malfoy is unable to continue the duel, I declare Harry Potter the..."

"Wait a minute!" Harry interrupted the tiny man. "Mr. Malfoy is quite able to continue the duel. The spell can be broken by someone with sufficiently strong will, and he is able to yield, if he desires. I left him able to move his head and mouth for that reason."

"I'll get you for this, Potter!"

"Well, it certainly seems that Mr. Malfoy is not incapacitated. I'll let the duel continue." A small smirk on his face betrayed Flitwick's emotions as he walked back to his position. Malfoy, able to hear everything, even if neither of the two were in his field of view, waited fearfully for Potter's next spell.

"Now, where was I?" Harry asked the crowd. Draco couldn't believe it. Potter was going to continue the story and just leave him on the floor! Like he, and the duel, weren't worth his time!

"This is ridiculous, Potter!" Draco started to shout. But he stopped when he heard a high-pitched, whiny sounding voice come out of his mouth. The crowd undulated with laughter.

"Oh, I must have forgot to tell you, Malfoy. From now on, unless you use the formal words to yield the duel, your voice will sound like that until the end of the duel."

"You son of a bitch!" The words were ugly, but the way they sounded removed all threat from Malfoy's voice. He shut up, not wanting to cause the crowd to laugh at his expense. Now he just needed to remember how to break a partial paralyzation spell.

"Back to the story. I knew that I would be walking out of that house that day. What an idiot I was..."

* * *

"_Enough talk!" Voldemort exclaimed. "Time to die! Cruciatus! Avada Kedavra!"_

_Harry had started to dodge the bead of red light only to find himself directly in the path of the ugly green spell. He was barely able to dodge it, and would look into a pensieve later in his life to see that the spell actually grazed the sleeve of his robe. For the next five minutes, Voldemort kept Harry on the defensive, casting an amazing amount of spells. Harry was sure that he was getting hit more than he was dodging, but he was fortunate to keep from coming in contact with a stunner or any of the Unforgivables. He suddenly found himself stuck in a corner of the room._

"_Protego Maximus!" A solid white shield appeared on the end of his wand, expanding in a large circle. _

_With the barrage of spells he was using, Voldemort didn't have the time to call up the energy for another killing curse, and he knew that if he stopped, the annoying teenager would manage to work his way out of the corner. He knew he could break through the shield soon enough. With an evil smile, Voldemore stepped up the volume of curses hurtling Potter's way._

_Harry kept behind his shield, wondering when he would hear the two words that would make him need to dodge. Instead of a killing curse, he felt the tempo of spells striking against his shield actually increase. He felt the shield, called forth from his core of magic, starting to weaken. Slowly, he inched forward, almost getting thrown back against the wall from the impacts of the curses. As the shield started to fail, he worked himself far enough away from the wall for one more dodge._

_With a cry, he cancelled the shield, diving to one side. Five different curses flew through the space he had just left, demolishing the plaster work. The wallpaper started to burn. Harry took advantage of Voldemort's momentary confusion, letting loose his own barrage of spells. He was thankful that Snape, that git, had managed to teach silent casting. Harry was struck by the momentarily crazy thought that he learned more from Snape in one year of Defense Against the Dark Arts than he did five years of Potions. A bone-breaker hex hit Voldemort's off-hand, but he ignored the pain it caused, brushing away Harry's other spells. __A fleeting calm settled over the two. Voldemort looked at his ruined arm, noting the way it dangled uselessly._

"_Impressive, Potter. I believe this is the most damage anyone has ever inflicted on me." A wave of his wand caused the bones to set. Harry winced, involuntarily. He knew from during his Horcrux hunt that self medication hurt like hell. A grimace washed over Voldemort's face as the pain from the broken arm flared as it healed. Harry stood in the ready position, waiting, as he watched Voldemort heal himself._

_  
"Why did you not attack me, Potter?" Despite himself, Voldemort actually seemed curious._

_He shrugged. "I'm not sure. It didn't seem fair." Harry thought, as he spoke, that it was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever said, or thought, for that matter. Voldemort laughed in surprise._

"_Not fair? You are worried about fairness? And yet," Voldemort seemed a bit unsure. "I believe I shall repay you. This my final offer to surrender. No harm will come to you or your friends if the three of you swear a Wizard's Oath to me as your master."_

"_You know that's never going to happen, Tom."_

"_Very well," Voldemort hissed. "CRUCIO!"_

_The spell shot out of Voldemort's wand faster than any previous spell. It hit Harry before he could even think to dodge. The pain was extraordinary. It felt five times worse than it did at the graveyard after Voldemort's resurrection. He dropped to the floor, writhing in pain. Voldemort held the curse for what felt like over a minute before he released Harry in order to gloat. Harry's muscles, compacted in tiny, painful knots, started to relax. He felt like he had been burned to ashes and frozen in ice. His breath drowned out the words he knew Voldemort was saying. His hearing returned in time to hear the last word. "CRUCIO!"_

_The pain started again, even worse than before, if that was possible. Knowing the Longbottom's fate, Harry vowed to kill himself before he started going crazy. As a desperate attempt, he reinforced his Occlumency shields, and was surprised to feel the pain lessen a tiny bit. Now it just felt like he was being hit by Bludgers over every centimeter of his body once every __**two**__ seconds, instead of every second._

"_He's got to release the curse sometime," he told himself. Harry felt, through the pain, his wand still being gripped. His hand had tightened when the spell hit, holding the wand in a death grip. The spell lifted again. Harry wasn't ready for the difference he felt. The after effects of the spell seemed to hold him hostage almost as much as the spell itself. He lay on the floor, breathing like he'd just felt air for the first time. At least he was able to hear Voldemort's words, this time._

"_I will make you suffer, Potter, as I have suffered. You will pay for the destruction of each of my Horcruxes. You will envy the Longbottoms' merciful fate compared to how I will leave you! Crucio!"_

_Harry tried to roll out of the way, but his body wasn't fully capable. The Cruciatus once again flooded through his body. Harry reinforced his Occlumency shields with every iota of magic he could. As the pain lessened to almost nothing... well, almost nothing compared to the previous two session, Harry realized that he wasn't thrashing around as much. He started trying to move his arms and legs. They jerked around a bit more, and Voldemort seemed unsuspicious._

"_Next time he lets up the curse, I'll have him," Harry thought. He positioned himself, through jerks and twitches so he could get a good view of Voldemort and his wand. He could still feel the pain, and knew that he would be agonizingly sore tomorrow, but he no longer worried about going crazy. Until time kept passing. Harry had no way to tell time, but this third Cruciatus seemed to have gone on longer than the other two combined. He could feel his magic straining to keep the pain from the spell reaching his mind. He tried to stretch his muscles as much as possible while hiding them in jerks and spasms. He suddenly had an idea._

"_Aaaaiiiiiiieeeeeiiiiiiieeeeee!" The scream was music to Voldemort's ears. He knew now that Potter was close to the breaking point. How rapturous he would feel as he dragged Potter's broken body, holding a broken mind, to the front door of Hogwarts. There, in front of the entire school, would he cast the spell to end Potter's life. It had been fifteen minutes already. Voldemort was impressed, in spite of himself. Most times, it barely took ten minutes for a Cruciatus to torture an individual to the point of insanity. Potter had already undergone almost twenty-five minutes over three sessions. As he watched, the teenager's head started shaking from side to side, spittle flying out of his open mouth, releasing a heart-wrenching moan. Satisfied, Voldemort lifted the spell. His enemy was broken, and now, no one would stand in his way._

"_Oh, Potter. How much I could have shown you if you had only joined me. It's time to find your friends, Potter. Time to show them all the price of defiance!" Throughout Voldemort's tirade, Harry just lay there, moaning and shaking. He was pretty sure that he could manage one spell as a surprise, but he needed Voldemort to get closer. He didn't want to risk missing. Closer, closer... Voldemort was almost by Harry's side. Close enough._

"_Diffindo!" Rolling to his knees in a sudden burst of strength, Harry cast the cutting curse with all his will. A solid, paper-thin beam of red light shot from his wand. An extra burst of luck had the spell strike Voldemort's wrist, cutting off the hand that held his wand._

"_WHAT?!" Voldemort's shriek of anguish, rage and surprise was deafening. He stared at Potter, who was most definitely not insane. He looked to the floor, trying to find out where his wand had fallen, but Potter beat him to the punch._

"_Accio Wand!" The bone-white wand flew to Potter's hand. "You knew that I would get a different wand, didn't you, Tom? That's why you didn't bother to replace yours. But I kept my old one." Harry reached into his robes and drew out his original wand. In such close proximity to its brother, both wands started to glow._

_In his haste to escape, Voldemort tried to Apparate out of the manor, only to forget about the wards he had put up earlier. The wards flung him back to his original position, leaving him in great pain. He stared into Potter's eyes, cold and unyielding. He knew now that he was going to lose, that Potter was going to kill him, and he could do nothing._

"_You're a rabid dog, Tom. You need to be put down." Harry sighed. "Reducto!" The spell flew out of both wands at the same time. One hit Voldemort's head, the other his chest. He blew apart in a spray of gore, making a mess of the entire room. Bits of blood and bone were stuck in the air in front of Harry, who had subconsciously turned the air solid to shield himself from the mess. Some of Hermione's words floated around in his head at the moment._

"_You need to remember. When we finally kill Voldemort, we need to remove any trace of his body that his followers might try to use to bring him back." Harry smiled. Even back then, Hermione refused to believe that there was any chance of defeat. She always used 'when' instead of 'if.' This room was literally covered in pieces of Voldemort. There was one spell he had heard about that should be able to take care of this. He went to the door, ready to head out and turned back towards the room. From what he had read, he wanted to be nowhere near this spell. He pointed at the far corner of the room._

"_Inflammato Damnatus!" The hellfire spell. Hermione had found it while trying to find different methods of destroying the Horcruxes. Everyone had agreed after reading the description that it was too volatile to use for one Horcrux, but it seemed to be the perfect idea for right now. Harry turned and ran out of the house. Already the fire was spreading much faster than any ordinary fire. He barely made it out of the house as the fire chased him as far as the door frame._

* * *

"So you see, Malfoy. After about thirty minutes of the Cruciatus, your little spell wouldn't even begin to hurt." Malfoy had struggled the entire time Harry was telling his story. He thought he could wiggle a finger, but he didn't think he had much of a chance to totally free himself before Potter dealt with him now that the story was finished.

Hesitantly, the crowd started clapping at the end of the story. It started off sporadically, but within seconds, the whole place was cheering. Harry recitation somehow managed to break through the fear of the memory of Voldemort that still held the populace hostage. It was cathartic, in a way. Harry seemed a little stunned. He began to wonder that maybe he should have told the story long ago. It would have helped with popular opinion of him. One woman, it sounded like Rita Skeeter, shouted out,

"What happened next?"

"Next?" Harry repeated. "I waited outside with Ron and Hermione. As soon as the Hellfire burned itself out, we combed the ashes of the building for any piece of his body that might have survived the flames. I can say for sure that Voldemort is completely and truly gone, body, mind and soul." The crowd cheered again, but suddenly broke off into a collective gasp.

"Look out!"

Draco had managed to suddenly sit up and regain the use of his arms. With a snarl that would have sounded vicious if not for the high pitch of his voice, he let loose a nasty bone-breaking hex that caught Harry on the heel of his foot as he dived out of the way. The comic quality of his voice did nothing to affect the spell's potency, however. In the sudden silence, the breaking bone was clearly audible. Try as he might, Draco was unable to regain control of his legs, so he sat in place, casting a large volume of spells. Each one came closer as Harry limped around the arena, barely dodging each spell. Despite the situation, Harry started laughing.

"See, Professor Flitwick? I told you he was capable of continuing the duel." Flitwick let loose a shocked giggle at Harry's pronouncement.

Harry let loose with a simple stunning spell which Draco dodged the only way he could. He lay back flat as the spell passed over him. Harry cast an Expelliarmus that actually hit Draco, but as the wand flew out of his hand, Harry saw that it was connected with a piece of string. Draco yanked his arm back, and the wand flew back to his hand. He had to admit, he was impressed with Malfoy's preparation. Then Malfoy did what he should have started off with. He pointed the wand at his legs and cancelled the rest of the spell.

Harry took the opportunity to heal his broken foot. The pain washed over him as the bones set, but such a small ache was nothing compared to the Cruciatus. The two opponents once again stood facing each other, ready to continue the battle.

"Any more little stories, Potter?" The chipmunk voice was still funny, but the crown found itself holding its collective breath. It was obvious that Draco was a worthy opponent who had managed to land a few deserved hits on Harry.

"Well, I could recount the time Tex dragged me to the Crazy Horse, but I don't want to piss Hermione off. She's much scarier than you." The crowd sniggered as Hermione flushed. "But you know, Malfoy, I'd rather you tell a story. Veritas!" A grey spell shot out and hit Draco in the chest.

"What the hell was that, Potter?" Draco searched himself for damage, but didn't seem to find anything.

"Nothing important, Draco. Tell me, why did you decide to visit Vegas?"

"You know why," Draco sneered. "I tracked your Mudblood girlfriend there and found you." A small part of his mind knew that he shouldn't be telling this, but he didn't want to pass up the opportunity to gloat.

"Yeah, what next?" Potter didn't seem the least bit angry.

"I kidnapped Granger and set a trap for you. It would have worked, too, if you hadn't cheated." Draco suddenly knew what Potter had done. "You used a truth spell on me!" Saying it confirmed Draco's suspicions. He would never have admitted what he had if Potter hadn't cast that spell.

"That's right, Malfoy. Now everyone knows that you were lying, for sure. No matter what happens with this duel." Harry smirked. "You never did think ahead far enough to count for every possibility. You should have known that I could play the crowd better than you. I always have."

Draco was so flustered by the knowledge that he admitted the truth to such a large crowd, that he wasn't able to put up a very effective defense. Harry soon had him tied up in conjured ropes, levitating above the ground, his head pointed towards some illusory hellhounds that were barking and breathing fake fire.

"Do you yield, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry spoke the ritual question to finish the duel. Malfoy knew he had no choice.

"I so yield the duel to Mr. Potter." He sighed in frustration. He had lost again. At least, by formally ending the duel, his voice changed back to normal. The crowd cheered the victor as Harry canceled his spells, slowly lowering Malfoy back to the floor. Malfoy was a bit surprised that Potter had rotated him to land feet first. He was well within his rights to just cancel the spells. The rules only stated that he could do no more harm with any magic. There was nothing in the rules that said he had to keep Malfoy from harming himself from the effects of the spells being canceled.

The two walked to the center of the stage where they shook hands. Harry searched Draco's face for the malice that he was expecting, but only saw defeat, and a small amount of depression. He didn't think for one second that he had actually beat Malfoy for good. It was only a matter of time before his next plan caused Harry trouble. They bowed to the judge signaling the end of the duel, and Hermione was in his arms a second later.

In full view of the entire crowd, she performed a passionate kiss, leaving him breathless. The crowd went wild. Unnoticed, alone, Malfoy slipped out the same back door that Potter had entered.

* * *

The apparition point at Malfoy Manor was as gloomy as the rest of the outside of the Mansion. The sky was overcast, looking about to rain any minute. Malfoy headed up the long walk, wanting nothing more than to get inside and try to forget today and what it meant. A voice from behind one of the grotesquely shaped hedges stopped him in his tracks. He hadn't heard the voice in ten years. And it was impossible that he heard it now.

"An admirable effort, boy. You have improved significantly since you left school. But if you want to defeat the boy who destroyed our master, you will need much more skill than what you have."

"You're dead, father." Malfoy turned and looked at the person who, if he didn't know was dead, was the spitting image of his father.

"Do I look dead, foolish child?" The man asked impatiently.

"Of course not. That means you are not my father. What is it? Glamour, Polyjuice?"

"Does it matter, boy? You have an ally. You have someone who can help you destroy that pompous, puffed up 'hero.'"

"Maybe I don't want help. Maybe I don't want to destroy him any more. I'm tired. I'm going inside."

"You are a fool to ignore me. But I will let it slide today." The man handed him a card. There was no name, only a set of coordinates for apparition. "Think it over. When your pride flows freely through your veins once more, when you remember what it means to be a Malfoy, come visit me. We'll talk then."

The man started walking to the Apparition point. Before he disappeared, he turned around and stared at Draco, who hadn't moved yet. "Don't wait too long, boy. I'm not as patient as you are to witness Potter's Fall."

The rain started falling as Draco stared at the card in his hand. The droplets hit the card and slid off, leaving the coordinates clear and unsmudged. The pride already started to rear its head in his mind. Knowing he had an ally, whoever it was, allowed Draco to contemplate certain possibilities. He ignored the rain for a long time, staring at the card, working out different scenarios. He was soaked by the time a crash of thunder woke him from his reverie. He hurried the rest of the way to the Mansion. It was time to relax, and consider what he could now accomplish.

* * *

**A/N**: The Wrackspurt infestation comes from on of my all time favorite stories, Nightmares of Future Past by Matthew Schocke (Viridian Dreams on fanficauthors), and I've probably used one or two ideas that I've seen on other stories and can't remember that they gave me the inspiration. If you recognize something that you originally came up with, let me know so I can apologize and give you credit. I know that I've got one or two ideas for my next chapter from other stories, and am trying to keep notes so I know whom to give credit to. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.


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